Worth Fighting For
by Jedi Kay-Kenobi
Summary: How drastically different would the land of Albion be had Isabelle not ran off and met Jack? What if Roderick still had the beans and put them to use without the interference of the farm boy? Can the King's guardians, particularly a certain captain, and a princess who only wants to be free resolve the crisis, bring the traitor to Cloister to justice and restore its former glory?
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, attack of the plot bunnies! Another idea hit me and I just got itching to write it! I wanted to make a change so this fic is an Elmont/Isabelle one. *Turns on ray shield* I have been enamoured with this idea and so I just went with pen to paper. This is AU as it veers completely from the plot of the original film. Its my own original idea. Also, I won't be getting into the main plot of this story until about 5 to 6 chapters in as I'm one of these author's who likes to build up a relationship and not just begin with then smitten with one another. This is rated T for violence, possibly a tiny bit of language. I don't own Jack the Giant Slayer or the characters... sadly, no Elmont.**

**Is it safe to turn off the ray shield now? *Turns it off* Well, for anyone reading this, I hope none of this note hinders your interest. I hope you enjoy. :)**

**Worth Fighting For.**

**Chapter 1. Make memories.**

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Her soprano laughter echoed throughout the cavernous space of the deep emerald fields, the rush of the chilled air fanning her brunette hair back behind her head as her crisp white Stallion pony spurred across the flat plane.

A second laugh mingled with hers, its melody deep and alluring, the kind that compelled you to join in.

She flung her head back as another bout of laughter bubbled up inside of her chest and out, the air carrying it back towards the man following her on his own black Stallion. The emerald blades on the grass fields flew past, land trudging up into a mist, swirling around her Stallion's hooves as they continued galloping over the lands.

"Are you going to catch me, Elmont?" The young girl laughed, throwing her head back around to look upon her pursuer.

The older boy grinned in response to her cheeky enquire, "Soon enough, Princess!"

Her eyes sparkled with mirth, realising that the boy behind was deliberately riding slower than her, for his own large black Stallion was much faster than her own pony.

The horse was growing, larger than most pony's, and high enough from the ground that she always needed to stand on a step to attach and hoist herself up onto her saddle, yet it still had a few more years to grow into its full, majestic size. She hoped that by that time she would be big enough herself to climb on without any support.

The young princess turned her gaze back ahead of her, the iris dilating within her cerulean orbs as she focused her attention onto the glistening lake a few hundred yards away within the tree line.

Sharply yanking the reigns back, her Stallion's hooves skidded along the land, digging deep brown earth and gravel into small mounds around its ankles.

Hopping down from her Stallion, she ran her small, soft hand gently through its thick pristine mane, distantly aware of the skidding of her companions mount and its snorting as she glided like a ghost towards the crystal waters.

Loud footsteps trunked behind her light pattering until she was on the water's edge the tide barely brushing against her pollen yellow slippers.

The boy next to her held his head regally as he stared straight ahead out towards the shimmering waters. The sun's reflection blurred along the ripples of the water, its golden fingertips illuminating the lake into a blaze of shimmering diamonds. Mist cleaned their faces from the cascade of water flowing over the rock face at the far end of the lake, the rocks cleaning the water. It was a beautiful sight to gaze upon.

"It truly is a beautiful sight, is it not, Princess?"

The princess turned her gaze to the left where her companion stood beside her. He had not shifted his gaze from the water and so was denied the privilege of gazing deeply into those familiar storm gems, always full with warmth and love that she had grown accustomed to.

"It certainly is, Elmont," she sighed, mesmerised by the natural beauty of the land they lived on.  
Cloister's land was prosperous for the kingdom, its farms providing many substances that could be used for living and trade. The kingdom was surrounded by green, towering mountains and hills upon hills of fields and forestation.

The kingdom was also known for its great strength, the lion and tree of their insignia representing such a trait. That trait was proven by the wise and careful decisions of their ruler, King Brahmwell, as well as the strength of the army, captained by Sir Araman, who was the highest ranking knight and the most experienced. His experience in many successful campaigns had led him to become the king's most trusted knight.

Elmont was highly regarded by Araman. His teacher spoke very highly of him to the king, and he always told the young knight in training that the king would be a fool not to make him captain of the guardians once he was gone.

Elmont never fully believed his mentor's words, but he agreed with him regardless. They thought very similarly to each other, very rarely disagreeing with tactics and formations.

Elmont was always seen with the Princess. She had immediately taken a shine towards the boy and they had grown into quick friends. On many of her excursions she would challenge a reluctant Elmont to chase her without the notice of the other guardians.

The knight himself, however, craved adventure, revelling in the thrill that the stealth of sneaking out of the palace walls filled him with. He also enjoyed the chases she often put up for him, always leaving them light-hearted, so much so that in secret and out of sensitive ears they would reminisce about them.

But this time Isabelle had not wondered out without being noticed. She had been spotted by Araman and Elmont, who had conveniently been nearby in the precise moment, was sent out to retrieve her before her father grew hysteric.

He had obliged of course, yet he enjoyed how his young friend had transformed the chase into one of her little games. She was only nine and a half, approaching ten, and the young boy in his eight-teen year old self had broken free.

And so he let him out, enjoying his youth and time with his friend until the pursuit had ended right where they stood now.

"I like to come here whenever I can, Elmont," Isabelle spoke softly, his ears prickling at her velvet tone. "It's a special place to me."

"How so, Princess?" the knight enquired curiously, turning to look at her with inquisitive storm eyes.

Isabelle smiled softly, her smile transforming her expression radiant. The sun blazed above her head, surrounding the top of her head in a golden halo, dust gathered from their journey floating within to create the illusion that she was shimmering like a jewel.

Elmont found himself comparing this angelic appearance with her personality. She was kind and caring and selfless, always putting the needs of her people before herself. That was one of her greatest urges when it came to sneaking out against her father's wishes.

Her compassion, like her departed mother's, was her Achilles' heel.

"My mother and I used to ride our horses here and swim or paddle in the lake. We came by monthly to swim together or feed the occasional swan." She chuckled. "There was even this one time where a swan had chased my mother after she offered it a slice of bread."

Elmont heard himself chuckle as the image of the former queen of Cloister being chased by a swan wildly flapping its massive wings formed in front of his mind's eye.

"This is the first time that I have come here since her passing. And it's been a year today."

A sharp memory flitted across his eyes like a faulty projector as he saw Isabelle's small and round devastated face when her father had informed her. She had fled to her chambers and cried her heart out, only allowing Elmont entry.

Because the knight understood; He himself had lost his family at a young age to the plague and it had also left him distraught. Yet hours of vigorous training had kept the memory of his final moments with them out of his mind. Training always was a suitable way for him to clear his head.

The morose tone of her voice alarmed him and, with a stab of sympathy, he stepped towards her, knelt down, and pulled her small frame into a tender hug before his rationality could get the better of him.

Isabelle's arms slowly snaked their way around his waist, her fingers interlocking behind his shoulder blades as she buried her head in his chest.

"I just wanted to come back here today. This place reminds me so much of the good times I shared with her," she whimpered almost inaudibly against his strong chest.

Pulling back, he looked down at her with tender eyes that were filled with warmth and care. Sensing his stare, she tilted her head back to meet his stare, long brunette locks cascading down her back like a waterfall.

"They will not be the only happy memories you have, Princess," Elmont replied gently, his eyes sincere. "You will make many more."

"We'll make more together. Whenever you want to leave for the lake, tell me, and we'll go. We'll make memories."

Today they just reminisced, both lying on their backs, side by side, upon the soft, rugged blanket Elmont had lay over the dirt forest ground beneath them. Isabelle sneezed at the strong woodland scent of the forest as she breathed in.

They idly conversed about random topics; the land, farms, people, her own affairs on adventures he had missed with her and his own in training. He told her how his training was nearly over, and soon he would be knighted.

Isabelle had been delighted and pulled him into a bear hug after sitting up.

When the blue sky began fading into a sanguine glow, Elmont decided to take her back to the kingdom. They wrapped the blanket up neatly into a tight bundle, which Elmont then stuffed under his Stallion's saddle, before helping the Princess on her own pony.

"We'll come here regularly," Elmont announced, "Whenever you want, Princess."

"I'd really like to come on this specific day every year, Elmont. For as long as we can." She turned to smile at him. He looked down and returned her smile.

The two rode back towards the kingdom in companionable silence, both smiling in excitement for their next visit to the lake.

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**Still with me? These first set of chapters do have significance to the later parts of this story and the character development of Isabelle and Elmont. I will try and update as quickly as I can to get onto the central storyline where the action takes place. Hope its okay and I hope that you will stick with me and this fic. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again! I'm back with the next update to this fic! I'm trying to get as much in as I can for this before I go back to 6th form on Tuesday. As I said before, the mushy-ness will not appear all that prominantly until chapters 4, 5 and onwards. ;) Thanks to everyone who left a review and to SerendipityAEY who helped me with some of this chapter. I couldn't have gotten any nearer to 1,000 words, even though I didn't get there in the first place on this one, without your help. :)**

Chapter 2. My hero.

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Upon the second anniversary of her and her mother's final visit to this obscured lake Isabelle was happy to make her next happy memory with her best friend Elmont.

The last visit they had done nothing but lie beside the shore, out of the water's reach, and stare up at the sky, idly discussing subjects of interest.

Now it was different. An enormous urge to find adventure in any way took a hold of her entire being, every heartbeat to her felt alien compared to the pulse pounding the adrenaline of adventure could bring. And that was what she wanted; blood pounding in her ears and her heart racing with excitement.

"Hurry Elmont!" she cried in mock horror as she half ran, half dragged herself behind the curtain of the cascading crystal clear water and into the ominous and unwelcoming mouth of the cave. It was anything but the opposite of unwelcoming, but for her own enjoyment, Isabelle had declared the cave as dark and scary and the home of a ferocious dragon that had kidnapped her in the hopes of receiving all of the gold in her kingdom as ransom for her return.

Elmont was to play her saviour, which he gladly portrayed, as he dashed up the slight slope of the rock face and behind the falling water. Isabelle mock squealed in fear and called for his name again. His heart thumping wildly inside of his chest, Elmont withdrew his sword from his scabbard with a high scratching sound and dove into the mouth of the cave.

The inside of the cave was the very opposite to how Isabelle imagined it to be. Instead of the dark abyss that he expected he would be able to see nothing but shadow it was light, the sun's golden rays bleeding in to the cavernous space. His eyes zeroed in on Isabelle instantly, whose face was a mix between a grin and mock horror.

Snapping her head to her left, she cried, "Elmont, look out!"

Knowing what would come next he ducked and rolled to his left. From Isabelle's gasp of fear he deduced that he had only narrowly avoided the "dragon's" offensive.

He ripped his thick, black oak shield from behind his back and slipped it onto his left forearm, ducking behind it. His storm eyes glistened over the shield's rim as he thrust his blade forward.

Her shout of joy told him he had successfully hit the said dragon, and he imagined the legendary beast rearing up in pain, its claws slashing wildly at the air, its razor sharp teeth glistening in the dull light of the cave as it cried out in anguish.

"Is it dead, Elmont?" Isabelle whispered, the mock fear completely drained out of voice.

Elmont stared at the imaginary dragon, continuing to play his part for the Princess's entertainment. He stepped forward and jabbed his sword arm again. "It is now, Princess."

Shuffling came from his left and by the time he had replaced his sword in its scabbard with a resounding click, Isabelle flung her little arms around his waist, rising on her tip toes so that her head was nestled against the nine-teen year olds shoulder.

"Why thank you, my hero," she cooed in her high childish voice, overdramatizing the situation as she pressed her warm, soft lips to his cheek.

Elmont felt his neck burn, his cheeks turning scarlet as he smiled and returned her embrace stiffly but in a warm, welcoming manner, admiring the young ten year olds marvellous imagination.

"We must get you back to the palace, my lady!" he announced in an exaggerated voice.

Isabelle giggled quietly, yet it echoed off of the caves grey rock walls as if it were amplified a few octaves.

"Whatever you deem is prudent, my hero!" she declared proudly, holding her round, pretty head up as high and as regal as possible.

A few moments later they were sitting beside one another on the rocks, paddling their bare feet in the still waters cool currents, enjoying the tranquil silence that ran between them both.

"Do you think you'll ever slay a dragon one day, Elmont?" Isabelle asked him quite suddenly, pulling his attention back with a startling jolt.

One part of him, the cynical part, wanted to tell her that there was no such thing as dragons. Another half wanted to tell her otherwise.

"Perhaps one day, Princess," he answered sincerely. "I am always prepared for anything, am I not?"

Isabelle giggled softly again, kicking her legs slowly through the water and watching it ripple and splash wildly. He couldn't help but allow the smile that was stretching across his lips to form as a warm family sensation filtered through him.

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**Hope you enjoyed. I'll try and post more as soon as possible, but I can't make any promises on how quickly that will be. Hope I can keep this story alive for you. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**And here is the 3rd chapter. As always, hope you enjoy! :D**

**Chapter 3. New Knight.**

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The sun shone brilliantly down over the crystal lake, its ripples shimmering like a bed of diamonds, the light illuminating them in a rainbow pattern of yellow, pink and silvery green.

The eleven and twenty-year-old sat opposite each other, crossed legged in the cool low grass. Isabelle idly plucked a long blade of grass from the soft soil beneath and twisted it between her fingers, smiling the entire time as her thoughts raced around Elmont.

The knight in training had finally been allowed to prove his skill with the sword, shield, spear, bow and arrow, and horseback, and had excelled flawlessly. His hard dedication and determinism won him the title of Sir and the honour of finally being a knight.

Elmont felt her cerulean eyes burning into him as he flipped the gleaming new badge in his hands. The sun reflected off of the sterling silver as he rotated it slowly, his eyes tracing every etching engraved and moulded upon it. Thick fingers ghosted across the tree in the centre of the badge and the lion stretched out above it, claws retracted from its outstretched paw.

"I still can't quite completely believe that this is happening," he murmured absently.

He heard her shuffling forwards and briefly glanced up to see her leaning closer towards him, her elbows planted on her knees as she smiled warmly at him. "You deserve it, Elmont. You've worked tirelessly for years, even keeping track of me through all of your training. You deserve nothing less than the honour you were granted today."

He briefly glanced down, feeling slightly bashful at her compliment, before looking up at her and catching her eyes. They shimmered with delight, and he couldn't help but allow a miniscule amount of pride to fill him as they both shared a genuine smile.

Being elevated to the rank of an official knight meant that Elmont needed new equipment; A new sword, his own. A choice of bow or a crossbow, and a spare blade, in his preference a dagger.

"It's custom that I select my own equipment in the next few days," he mentioned aloud.

"Which reminds me," Isabelle pronounced as she uncrossed her legs and stood up. Elmont watched her curiously as she glided over to her white Stallion. The horse was not yet an adult, yet he had grown slightly taller. Luckily for the princess she had also grown taller and was therefore able to climb upon her saddle without too much trouble. The thought made him smile inwardly as amusement filled him.

A deep frown formed across his forehead as he watched her return, a small and cunning smile plastered across her face as she sat down before him again. He uncrossed and then crossed his legs differently as he unconsciously leaned forward, curious to inspect what was in her hands.

Wrapped under her slim pale fingers was a brown cloth bundle. The sewn bag was roughed by fraying along the edges and patches of dirt yet the object in question that was underneath the bag left ridges along the surface.

"I have something for you."

He opened his mouth to protest, tell her that she didn't need to get him anything. That he wasn't worth the amount of gold that she had spent on him. However she silenced him with a single look. Embarrassment flared up inside of him. He had been silenced by an eleven-year-old. But that eleven-year-old was the princess of Cloister, who had power over him in every way and to whom he had silently sworn an oath to protect.

So instead he silenced his words, smothering them as he pursed his lips loosely and watched intently as she slowly began to unravel the hidden object.

He didn't know whether to be surprised, touched, or flabbergasted as each separate emotion tumbled through him in a maelstrom of bewilderment.

Before him, in Isabelle's small hands, was a deep black sword scabbard, short and thick enough to carry a broadsword, his preferred choice in sword play. He was mesmerised, deeply immersed with the scabbard as he gazed at the sleekness of it. The thick leather smelled prominently rich, the richness of being unused. No markings of damage or ill care was present, except for a small silver indentation running vertically down the scabbard at its centre.

Gleaming up at him in silver was the initials _I &_ _E._

A lump formed in his throat, one he found difficult to swallow and could not be washed down by a simple drink of water. His mouth suddenly felt dry as he stretched out, with slightly trembling hands, and gently took the scabbard from her hands, gazing at it in wonder as he slowly brushed his fingers across the inscription, fingertips feeling the smooth expensive silver that marked the scabbard with their name initial.

Fingers curling around the scabbard more tightly, he finally managed to swallow the lump lodged in his throat and murmur hoarsely, "I… I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything," she replied softly, and he could see from her relaxed smile and posture that she was relieved of her anxiety. "I already know what you are trying to say regardless."

Swallowing again, he nodded dumbly, like a child mystified when learning something new and enthralling as he raised his gaze to level with hers, expressing his gratitude silently through bright storm gems.

"It's large enough for a broad sword, which I know is your favourite type of blade."

He wasn't surprised at her knowledge of him. The two had become fast friends ever since their first meeting. She had watched him train before from her room where he was too enamoured in his sparring to notice her stare upon him, and other times where she was present by the training fields at the palace courtyard, she being transfixed as she watched his fluid movements as he danced within the sparring ring and around his opponent.

She even knew his preferred fighting style, choosing defence primarily over offence until forced otherwise or when his adversary was either becoming reckless or fatigued.

Shadow fell over the silver inscription as grey clouds descended above them, blocking out the suns bright and warm rays.

Both simultaneously gazed up at the sky and the grey clouds that had descended upon them as the first droplets of rain fell onto their faces.

Without further hesitation they both ran to their horses, taking a hold of and tugging on the reigns, herding them slightly deeper into the forest until Elmont found a thick set of branches that was plentiful of crisp autumn brown leaves.

Tying their horses to the trees trunk, Elmont gave Isabelle his cloak. The eleven-year-old girl huddled under the dark, thick felt, fingers grasping tightly to the edges as she wrapped it around herself.

Elmont grinned at the now tiny looking figure that was engulfed within his garment, how it drooped into waves of felt on the ground around her feet.

A slight shiver ran through his bones as the rain slithered its way under his armour, soaking his tunic beneath.

"Elmont?" Isabelle called softly. The newly dubbed knight forcefully ignored the freezing chill that ran through him, willing his body to turn to stone, as he slowly unfolded his arms from across his torso and stared at her expectantly.

The young princess was holding her right arm outwards, leaving the cloak open, tempting him with inviting warmth.

"No thank you, Princess. I'm all right," he replied courteously, instantly regretting it as a stern spark flared up in her eyes before solidifying into a steely resolve. He chastised himself for being so foolish and believing that she would actually accept such a poor excuse when he was barely concealing his bodily discomfort. She flicked her arm out again invitingly.

And this time he did not refuse as he stepped into the warmth of the cloak and her. His fingers grasped the other edge, allowing her to relinquish her hold as he brought it around himself, sighing in relief as the heat cocooned his shivering body. "Thank you, Princess."

Isabelle nodded silently, shuffling on her feet to preserve warmth through movement.

They stood there in almost complete silence for half an hour, both slightly uncomfortable with the situation they were in, Isabelle wondering when the downpour would stop so that they could return home and Elmont from seemingly breeching protocol around the princess, even though it was to keep her from falling ill, yet pleased with himself that he was able to successfully take care of her when no one else was present.

Eventually the rain steadily began to settle until it was nothing but mere drizzle. They both silently removed his slightly dripping cloak and twisted it, squeezing as much moisture out of it as he could before bundling it as neatly as humanly possible and attaching it to Elmont's saddle.

"Thank you, Princess."

Isabelle glanced at him questioningly. He returned her stare with a pleasant gleam in his eyes.

He dipped his head respectfully. "For your gift; it's more than I could ever ask for."

Isabelle smiled warmly at him before setting her sights out towards the small structure that was Cloister ahead.

They rode back out into the open emerald fields on their return to the castle, both wearing private miniscule smiles on their faces.

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**And that's chapter 3. In the upcoming chapters there will be a slight time jump, but not by many years, and I will briefly go over them in chapter 5 to show how their relationship has developed. Don't worry; chapter 4 will also show a prominent shift in their relationship. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**And chapter 4! :D A bit fo a sad one but its got some happiness and its brinign them closer together. Enjoy! :D**

**Chapter 4: Loss and love.**

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"Elmont?"

The only response she received was a grunt of exhaustion accompanied by a vicious swing, a dull thwack echoing throughout the courtyard, making the fifteen-year-old girl flinch slightly as the broadsword sliced into the oak dummy's waist.

"Elmont, please!" the Princess cried. The just turned twenty-four-year-old man stiffened, his back rising and falling, unbalancing the perfect t-shape across his shoulders as he panted for breath. Slowly he turned around to face her, sheathing his sword with a hiss and click as he did so. He looked as if he had sweat like a pig, his thick auburn hair matted against his forehead, slightly shielding his storm eyes.

Swallowing heavily and gasping for more air he only nodded in response, yet he saw that her eyes weren't on his face, but locked on his instead, shining with grief.

"You have done nothing but train every single day. Barely anyone has seen you around the palace." He frowned when she paused, crimson lips pursing tightly, for when she spoke again, her voice was laced with terror.

"And you're barely standing!"

The knight, now promoted to Captain and Isabelle's official guardian, had been almost completely obsolete, only being spotted sporadically walking aimlessly about the gardens or staring out across the emerald fields from the top of the castle walls.

What he was really looking at was the very patch of ground where he had fought the guardian's traitor, Jonathon.

And where he had seen his own Captain and friend murdered in cold blood by the sadistic knight.

Training was where he had been. When no one else was present he'd sneak out and attack the dummy's, attempting to erase his mind of the disgusting memory.

And another of his distracting thoughts was an alteration in blades. After slaying Jonathon he had pondered on how Araman had fallen. He only used a broadsword; sacrificing the defence a shield could offer the body for ferocious, fierce two-handed combat.

That and the strain it pulled on the middle-aged knight was what had led to his demise.

It was his death that had made Elmont decide to sacrifice the two-handed necessity of a broadsword for the one-handed and lighter long sword.

Quietly he asked, "What can I do for you, Princess?"

A pause and the two grew weary as the silence dragged. Eventually, the thick cord that had forged between them snapped violently, and Isabelle pounced forward, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the stables.

He didn't resist; just let his legs work backwards and forwards and gazed with lifeless storm eyes at his black stallion whose head was hanging over the door, pitch black eyes glistening straight at him.

As if his horse sensed his grief it nudged its head against his shoulder, pushing against the knight until he had to step back to regain his composure.

He copied Isabelle as she climbed onto her own horse and spurred it out of the stables and the palace into the emerald lands ahead.

The sky was baby blue with the summer time, yet light grey clouds set overcast, filled with precipitation waiting to burst forth and rain down upon the land.

Time had whirled past for the both of them and before they knew it they were still saddled upon their mounts by the lakes edge, the sun's rays bleeding through the trees and kissing their faces lightly.

Elmont squinted his eyes up at the sun and imagined that somewhere Araman was at peace, watching over him as he took on his role as Captain of the King's guardians.

Isabelle stared at him with worry-filled cerulean eyes. The man was unaware of her stare as he glared up at the obscured sky, like he was blaming God for taking his mentor and second father figure away from him.

Memories of her time spent with the man next to her flittered through her mind like a projector: all of the times he had saved her from dishonourable men throughout the years they had known each other. How he would sometimes help her sneak out and then 'chase' her to fool anyone who found out she had escaped. How he portrayed her saviour when they played 'Princess's, Knights and Dragons'. The nights he stayed by her side in her chambers as she cried herself to sleep after her mother's passing. He thought that she was unaware of him stroking her hair tenderly with his calloused fingers as she slept, but she had always been aware.

And all of the happy memories they had shared here had brought them even closer together; towards a bond that was unbreakable.

As the years went by and they continued visiting the lake yearly, she found herself being drawn closer to him, like a moth to a flame. Entering the life of a teenager not only meant that she found herself drawing the attention of men's hungry gazes, but also finding her own eyes settling on attractive men.

And as much as she despised the butterflies fluttering inside of her stomach she found that they fluttered the most whenever she looked at Elmont.

She remembered how she felt, for the first time in her life, unable to tear her gaze away from the kneeling knight as he was promoted to Captain and her guardian within the King's chambers. His lithe form as he rose after her father's blade had touched both of his shoulders lightly. Her lips curled slowly into a small smile, mirroring the one she gave him as he smiled warmly at her.

Despite that happy moment where she felt delighted for his promotion she had seen the hidden depths of sadness and guilt within his eyes. She knew the young man could be very cynical with himself, and she had realised immediately that he blamed himself for Araman's death.

He would always wonder if he could prevent it.

Regardless of what he thought she knew otherwise. He tried his best to hide it, but she knew.

And she would do everything that she could to reassure him that it was not his fault.

This she was adamant with.

As if he had read her mind he murmured, "It was my entire fault."

A deep frown formed across her forehead, and she continued to look at him inquisitively until he turned his own gaze upon her.

Her heart twisted as she registered his sparkling, tear-filled eyes. "Araman… If I had been faster… I could have saved him, and he'd be at the palace right now, training the men. And I wouldn't have to bear this responsibility that he had."

For a moment she thought that he meant protecting her, but he would never suggest that he disliked his role. They were friends, and he was loyal to her and the King above all others. He disliked the pressure that was weighed upon his shoulders of leading so many men.

He feared of going astray; of steering wrong.

Jumping off of her horse she slowly approached the knight, the sound of the crisp leaves under her shoes were as explosive as the bellowing of men and the clashing of swords in battle compared to the silence within the forest.

She rest her left hand softly against his black stallion's neck as Elmont slipped from his saddle and landed in front of her, looking down at her with a face as solid and cold as stone.

"You did what you could. You confronted him, despite him being much more experienced than you. And if Araman believed that you couldn't have matched Jonathon he would have sent you away without a second's hesitation. He didn't say anything because he knew you could take him."

His storm eyes flashed for a second with something. Isabelle frowned. Was it _actual belief_? She felt a swell of hope rising in her chest, forcing more than what was needed oxygen in her lungs.

"He trusted me to have his back. And I failed him."

And in just a short second the hope she felt swelling inside of her chest burst like a needle piercing a balloon, the air practically knocked out of her lungs from the sheer force of the surprise, and suddenly she felt as if there was no more dreadful feeling in the world than seeing Elmont so ashamed and heartbroken.

Without further thought, she reached out with her hand quickly and clutched his larger, more calloused palm, pulling him along away from the horses and towards the waterfall by the cave.

He was silent the entire way, and it irritated her to no end. Elmont always had something to say; something that was supposed to help him move on. But this time he was completely mute, and she knew that he was beating himself up devastatingly, his sharp mind tormenting him with various ways that he could have saved his friend.

She soon stopped right beside the cascading ripples, the harsh fall pounding her ear drums as the spray cooled the skin on their faces.

Tugging lightly on his arm, she hesitantly lowered herself to the ground, folding her legs behind her so she rest on her knees. The knight was seated beside her, head bowed and unmoving.

She brushed her fingers against his until they fit the spaces in between, where she then curled them so that her hand was interlaced with his.

Isabelle's heart clenched, as if crushed within another's hand, as she registered her close friend's next words.

"I keep seeing his face. His eyes… are haunting me."

She felt a deep burning ignite in her gut as he lifted his head with a minute shake to gaze at her with shimmering, tear-filled eyes. The burning intensified until it was flaring to life throughout her entire body. The need to be near and comfort him; be someone who he could confide in.

His shoulders shook as he suddenly became dead weight and fell forwards. Instinctively she thrust her hands out and caught him, fingers clinging to his leather bound arms like claws and the air rushing out of her lungs, through parted crimson lips, his head rolling forwards to collide with her shoulder. She just managed to counter the force his extra weight put onto her to stop them from toppling over onto her back.

Slowly she manoeuvred her arms around his back until he was cocooned in her embrace. She felt his head brush along her collar bone, his hair tickling her, making her heart flutter lightly inside of her rib cage, as his forehead now came to rest where the side of his head had been moments ago.

She felt the heat rise up her neck to her cheeks and the shortness of her breath; though she tried her best to mask it, as his suddenly inferno breath tickled the slope of her neck.

A wet trail slithered down her chest, and only after she heard his short bursts of breath and sniffling, did she realise that Elmont was crying.

In the years she had known Elmont she had never seen nor known of him ever crying. He always looked so strong and sturdy. Unbreakable.

Now here he was, leaning on her shoulder so that he may release his grief. He wasn't bottling it up by training or anything else.

It was just them alone together by the cave at the lake they always shared their memories at. This moment for them wasn't the happiest of memories but Isabelle understood that they had many years together left to replace the bad with the good.

Breathing soft words of comfort such as, "It's okay," and "I'm here," her lips a hairs breadth away from his ear lobe she closed her eyes tightly, trying to subdue the salty tears welling behind her lids as a lone tear escaped and trailed an already drying line down her rosy cheek.

"He's still with you. And you have me. You're not alone. Remember that, Elmont."

He moaned somberly, almost as if physically wounded, and nodded slowly. She slipped her left hand up to cradle the back of his head, fingers gliding across the back of his neck, and raked her fingers lovingly through his thick, velvety auburn hair.

She felt his body shiver against hers, chest to chest. She swallowed heavily, heart thumping wildly and ready to burst forth from her chest as she lifted her head and propped her chin atop his head. Isabelle felt her body being drawn impossibly closer to his to the point where she could feel his body heat radiate through his black armour as his arms tightly wound themselves around her.

The hours drew by until it was almost dark, and all they did was sit together, comforting each other with soft, kind words and tight, sweet, loving embraces, never letting go.

* * *

**And we draw ever closer to the _moment _in chapter 5! That moment is gonna sizzle! :D**


	5. Chapter 5

**The sizzler! As promised. Hope you enjoy! :)**

**Chapter 5: Intensity.**

* * *

Her soprano giggle echoed throughout the spacious green forest as she clumsily balanced the tall and heavy dark oak bow in her hands.

"It's really quite simple, Princess," Elmont chuckled, and her ears pricked as his soft footsteps crunched to a close behind her.

"Hold it this way, Princess." Her breath hitched as she felt his presence closer than ever, his broad chest nearly touching her back as his arms snaked their way around her waist, but not touching, to cradle the bow in her hands.

She found herself idly imagining how it would feel to have his strong hands touching, stroking her waist the way they caressed the bow, like he was holding a fragile painted glass ornament. However she quickly reprimanded herself for losing focus on the lesson, determined to master the weapon so that she could expand the horizons upon her adventurous nature.

Her dainty hand, which held the bow, was enveloped slowly, cautiously by Elmont's left hand, shifting it downwards and pressing his hand tighter around hers so that her grip increased.

"You'll achieve a much better aim by grasping it firmly. Don't be afraid to grip it as tight as possible. It's solid oak and will not break."

Nodding, she exhaled a shaky breath, one she did not even realise she was holding, as she flexed the muscles in her fingers ever so slightly, readjusting her grip until it felt comfortable to her.

She felt his right arm brush slightly against her hip bone as his hand moved downwards to the quiver by their feet. From it he selectively plucked a white feathered bodkin arrow and presented it to her.

"This arrow is specially made by Englishmen. The finest of woods is carved from the trees of our forests and then carved into this cylinder shape here." His fingers glided across the length of the arrow and she almost failed to suppress the shiver that ran down her spine, making her nearly jump from the biting chill the simple movement caused.

Elmont took no notice of her lapse in focus however, for he seemed to be oblivious to the way her body reacted to his nearness and she mentally sighed in relief.

Yet she wouldn't put it past herself that he had noticed the slightest of things and, out of courteousness, had chosen not to comment on them. That was the thing about Elmont; he was fundamentally perceptive. Able to detect the slightest of things with the sharpest of senses.

Over the years, ever since Elmont had lost his mentor, she had found herself being drawn closer to him, like some pup to a bone. Something had shifted within her that night when _she_ had comforted _him _by the lake, holding him until he had spent all of his grief. The burning desire to remain close to him and shield him if necessary was omnipresent. She thought that this must be what Elmont felt like when he was with her; close to her side and ready to block anything that posed a threat coming at her.

The gift he presented her with when she was fifteen, a chestnut brown miniature knight was always at her person. She treasured it as much as she treasured him and never went anywhere without it. She even remembered the day when she had bought him a silver cross, in the hopes that it would serve to protect him. So far it had not failed her. And she wondered if she had gifted it to him because at that moment it was the first more intense feeling she had ever felt for him.

Her mind would wonder oftenly about the Captain of the King's guardians also. Her lessons in politics and her future duty as Queen breezed past her as she thought about him; all he had done for her; the way he sometimes looked at her. She didn't dare question if he perhaps felt the same way. He was duty bound after all. Nothing could make him turn his head the other way, nor put his heart over his mind. She was even certain that in the many moments they shared together, whether it was by the lake, within the palace or whenever he was escorting her back from the market after another one of her escapes, that he had spotted the sporadic looks she shot him, or the too long glances.

Elmont's focus remained on the lesson and nothing else.

"The arrow feathers are plucked from a white-feathered swan and the arrow head here…" he continued, tapping the pad of his fingertip against the squared metal spike. Isabelle found her gaze transfixed on his movements, unable to tear her gaze off of the arrow and his hands. It took all of her will power not to let her gaze be drawn up to his face as he spoke melodically.

"The arrow head is only a small squared metal spike. It can pierce chain mail armour more effectively than a broad head. You'll have no problem sticking it in that tree over there."

She stared down the length of his finger towards the broad, tall tree standing fifteen feet away from them.

Her heart beat furiously as he twisted her left arm delicately to the right. She now held the English war bow horizontally before her chest, angled down towards the twig littered ground. Elmont proceeded to reach over her and take her right hand in his, dropping the slim arrow onto her palm, and knocked its feathered end to the string with a click, the length of the arrow then being supported by the catch upon the bow.

"You only need to hold the string back with three fingers, Princess," he breathed, his head now right beside hers, almost touching. Isabelle felt a static charge between them, as if she was being pulled towards him like a magnet, and she fought it with all of her might, determined not to allow another distraction interfere with her training.

Out of the corner of her eye she spotted the knights eyes were pin-pointed to the target ahead, yet his hands moved fluidly without him having to look at them, as if he knew every inch of his surroundings and the bow, all the while mindful of her standing in his place.

His hot breath ghosted across her neck and shoulder, and her body jolted ever so slightly.

He pulled his head back, seemingly mistaking his actions as making her uncomfortable. "Sorry, Princess."

"No!" she yelped, surprised at the high pitch of her tone. "It's quite all right. Please, continue."

She turned her head around to connect with his concerned expression and she knew that he had detected something out of the ordinary about her most likely again.

Offering him a reassuring smile she immediately registered the apprehension in his following movements, the hesitant pauses as his arms slowly extended forwards to resume their previous position around her waist. Cautiously, he leaned his head back down next to hers, and she felt a pressure being lifted off of her chest, like she needed him to breathe, as his hand found hers on the bow string again.

"Place your thumb just above your fingers. Once you feel that your aim is adjusted to your suiting, move your thumb underneath them."

She did as instructed, blinking furiously to obliterate the soft caress from his voice and clear her mind.

"Now, raise the bow towards your target, and as you do so make sure that your thumb removes itself from the bowstring and that your elbow is straight as you pull it back."

She did this almost perfectly, he only needing to assist her by placing his right hand beneath her elbow and levelling it out straight.

"Look down the arrow to where you intend it to be and you can't stray wrong."

With his velvet voice flowing like music softly to her ears, his body inches away from hers and his hands now removing themselves from hers down to her arms, she found it almost impossible to stop herself from straying wrong, her senses practically overwhelmed entirely by his mere presence.

Increasing the tension on the string as she pulled it further back, she exhaled the breath she hadn't realised she was holding slowly, doing her best to ignore the feel of him right beside her. But she struggled, feeling her body react in strange ways to his instructing touches. The truth was that she loved his warm touches; being near him.

"Release at your own time, Princess," he murmured, and her heart lurched inside of her chest, like a bird wanting to take flight, her aim beginning to shake when his right hand slid along her arm to rest on her back, between her shoulder blades, correcting her balance and the t-shape her body formed.

The arrow flew as her arms strained under the bows weight, and it missed the target marginally, soaring past the bark and into the dark moss green abyss of the forest.

Elmont's sigh brushed past her cheek, and suddenly, she couldn't handle the pressure of withstanding his closeness any further. The captured pressure within her combusted and she felt as if every nerve was on fire.

The bow clattered to the ground unceremoniously and the eight-teen-year-old twisted around in the twenty-seven-year-olds arms before he could remove himself to pick up the discarded weapon, her full crimson lips pressing roughly against his.

Slim fingers gripped the thick velvety hair at the back of his head desperately as she pulled herself flush against him, like her life depended on it.

Pulling back after a few short seconds and breathing out slowly, feeling weightless, she draped her hands over the back of his neck, looking up at him hopefully with glistening cerulean eyes.

She wasn't entirely certain as to why her carefully constructed net of emotions ripped open so unexpectedly, for she normally held dominion over them. But the way in which he spoke to her only mere moments ago in his gentle, soothing voice, and how his hands touched her, so similarly to the way in which they had stroked her hair years ago on the nights she cried herself to sleep had cut through the net like acid, spilling out all of its trapped contents.

She deduced that everything he had done for her over the years was what made her now feel this way about him. She was the princess, and he the knight; her protector.

And safety was the exact feeling that she felt around the warm, determined and loving knight.

Now all that remained was to determine how he felt in return.

"What-"

"I'm sorry, Elmont," she breathed, eyes trailing down from his face to his armoured chest. "I just had to get away and do this. I couldn't stand concealing it anymore. You've always been there for me, protecting me, nurturing me in times when my father couldn't. I always saw you as my older brother. But now…"

She gazed up shyly at him from under thick lashes. His lips were parted, eyes looking at her questioningly, flashing with many different emotions that they were too sudden for her to recognise. The only one she managed to capture was uncertainty. Did he...?

"I've always noticed the small things that you have done for me; giving me that chestnut knight on my fifteenth birthday. The times you've saved me."

She paused, licking her suddenly dry lips in anxiety and continued softly, "All of the happy memories we've made near this very spot at the lake."

"But no matter how hard I try, I can't deny what I've been beginning to feel towards you. Not anymore."

The silence dragged between them, the only sounds were their steady breathing and her own heart beat hammering inside of her chest and pounding in her ears, the blood rushing through her veins.

Swallowing the large lump in her throat she felt the cold iciness encasing her chest melt, allowing her to express what she had now felt for him for three years.

"I love you."

The cold dead weight of dread fell into the pit of her stomach as she waited anxiously for his response.

He stared at her with the same bewildered expression. His mouth opened and closed like a trap door, singing silent words.

Lowering her gaze to the ground, feeling rejection roil through her like crashing waves in a storm, she stepped back, slipping out from his strong arms.

"I just had to say it once. All you needed to do was hear it."

Yet just as she was about to leave the warm company of his arms they instead shot forwards and tightly wrapped themselves around her slender form, his hands planted firm yet gently on her back, pulling her back towards his chest. She raised her beautiful face upwards just in time to meet his lips as they slowly descended upon hers in a sweet and gentle kiss.

Her entire body ignited in a warm and steady fire from the sweet taste of his lips on her tongue, one that did not shiver and rage with passion, but instead burned strongly, withstanding the cold waters and harsh winds that stood opposed to it. She felt warm, the butterflies fluttering in her stomach once more.

And that was what love felt like to her. Butterflies should flutter inside of the person when they are near the one they love, making them feel nervous. Yet joy should flow through them at the same time as well. Excitement rushed through her veins. Love for her was an adventure, pumping her heart like the flutter of a humming bird's wings and her blood pounding in her ears loudly. You never knew what was around the corner. Right now, she felt that he would be a part of her next adventure.

And she wouldn't dare embark on this future one without him.

Time stopped revolving around them, and from the way he returned her kiss, she knew immediately how he felt in return.

And there was no more phenomenal amount of joy or love in the world that could amount to how much she was feeling in this present moment.

* * *

**Again, I hope you enjoyed! :) Chapter 6, where the main story will begin, shall be up as soon as possible. :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Getting into the main story now. Judging by the title of this chapter it is obviously going to veer even further into the AU section now. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 6. A different choice**

* * *

"Isabelle!"

The eighteen-year-old was deaf to her calling as she marched towards the opposite end of the throne room, brushing uncaringly past Elmont, who had stepped forward to escort Isabelle presumably back to her chambers, with only the briefest of glances.

A stab of pain towards his heart was almost enough to make him wince from the emotion that flared up within her cerulean orbs with which she presented him with: agitation.

And only a few days ago she had been upon him, her hands wrapped around his neck and full crimson lips pressed tightly against his, her eyes flaring with hope and another deep emotion he dare not name. Yet she did name it, and it made him freeze momentarily every time he thought about it.

Falling into step beside her they remained silent, allowing him the time to reflect over the last few days.

He'd noticed, with his sharp eyes, that Isabelle had been distracted frequently, mostly whenever they were together. Initially it had worried him; how she would stare off distantly when they spoke, almost as if she was staring through him at something behind. Her cerulean eyes would cloud over with a mist of distraction as her attention lapsed and whenever it returned it would be with the speed of a wire snapping, the mist dissipating as she'd shake her head and hurriedly answer him.

Usually her answers would be sporadic, verging severely off of the current topic.

And then there was the silver pendant cross she had gifted him a few years ago on her birthday. He'd disguised them both so that they could sneak out into the market undetected and had spent the whole day there helping, exploring. She had gazed at him with such intensity that evening under the shadow of the pillar structure, and he still distinctly remembered the twisting knots his stomach had made from that single look. He also remembered the feeling of being enamoured by the pendant and her amazing kindness.

He immensely admired that about her. In many ways she was like her mother; kind, beautiful, strong and determined, with a dignified sense of honour to do the right thing. Of course there was also the constant craving of an adventure, being born of being imprisoned within her own home. He admired all of her traits, believing her to be an absolutely beautiful person. And someone like her was a person to look up to.

He wasn't drawn to her because of her physical beauty, no. He was drawn to her because of the beautiful soul that lived inside of her and made her who she was.

Over the years he couldn't deny that he had begun to notice her more just as she had, though he hid it better than her. He'd caught the small occasional glances she'd sneak at him or the times that she had stared at him a bit too long with an almost hypnotic gleam in her eyes.

It unsettled him to find himself more drawn to her. They were good friends, and there was a fine line drawn between them on how far the friendship between the princess and her guardian could be stretched before protocol was breached.

Her steps echoing down the hall as she stormed to her chambers, he just a little behind her, drew his attention back to her, yet he quickly averted his gaze, neck and cheeks burning scarlet and storm eyes looking almost panicked. He blinked furiously, shaking his head as he unsuccessfully attempted to shove away his thoughts on the night he'd lost his mentor, yet they fought back stubbornly and dominated him, forcing him to relive and analyse the moment he'd given in to his grief.

He'd literally just lost control of his body and fell like a dead weight forwards into her quick and secure hands before bringing him into an embrace.

He'd been too aggrieved to take much notice of her own reaction to him when he had rest his head on her shoulder and cried, but he did know that she had cried along with him, sadness pooling around her as he brought her into his own embrace and trying to comfort her in turn, despising the fact that his grief brought forward her own.

Reflecting on that moment he was surprised to discover that he had felt a burning desire to be close to her, hence why he had found himself drawing his arms around her and pulling her towards him that night. He'd found himself not wanting to let go, dreading the moment when they would have to. It was like she was protecting him for the first time ever. He hated feeling weak, unable to defend, and he had felt so vulnerable. Having her there to comfort him made him feel safe and secure; gave him valuable strength in a time when he felt he had none.

They had stayed there by the lake, holding one another until it was almost too dark to see anything in the distance. Thankfully the torches around the palace had guided them back home and they had managed to hitch their horses back to the stables and sneak back inside to Isabelle's chambers before he had departed for his own.

She had pulled him into another embrace, and he had savoured the moment, enjoying the brief respite from protocol and to just be Elmont and Isabelle again, not guardian and princess.

And he had managed to successfully keep himself in check during their archery lessons, doing his best to ignore her erratic breathing and her heart pumping irregularly. He had managed to keep his eyes focused on the target and distract himself with the bodkin arrow. It was just unfortunate for him that despite his light touch she had responded in the way that had made him almost lose control himself.

Yet she had snapped first and the spark ignited into a flame, only flickering faster once she kissed him.

Yet he had some reservations. He did not dislike the kiss, or he would never have returned it. For a few years now he had been beginning to feel more for the princess of Cloister, and whilst those made him feel uncomfortable for breaching protocol, even though this was the furthest he'd ever done so, a part of him also enjoyed the thrill it gave him.

What really kept him back was the King.

Isabelle was already engaged to Lord Roderick, and even if she wasn't, his Majesty would likely never allow it. She was royalty, and despite him being born from a noble blood line, he still wasn't from one as prosperous as Roderick's. He had nothing to offer her.

Yet he dare not tell her that in fear of breaking her heart and his own. He'd begun growing to love her from a distance.

Perhaps he could continue that. It would give him something to hold on to.

"This is completely unreasonable!" Isabelle announced as she banged the door open, not bothering to close it for Elmont quickly stepped in afterwards.

Standing just to the left of the heavy oak door, he resumed his previous position and linked his hands before him, assuming the parade pose and choosing to remain silent.

She stalked about the room as if he wasn't even there and she was speaking to herself, grasping a dark blue shawl from the hanger on the limestone wall. His eyes widened minutely and his heart lurched inside his chest with fear, and he began growing acutely aware of what the Princess was planning to do.

Willing his voice to rise up within his chest, he asked, "What are you doing, Princess?"

She stopped short, alarmed, looking like a rabbit caught in a trap. Her cerulean orbs shimmered with resolution. "I have to get out of here, Elmont," she answered honestly. He could detect no lie.

And he did want to let her go, have her freedom, but after just returning and it nearly being nightfall soon the guardians would be scouring the kingdom's walls.

Leaving now would put her at even greater risk. He wasn't prepared to let that happen.

Opening his mouth but pausing, he tried to unscramble the words in his mind before speaking. "I don't think that's wise, Princess."

The only response he received was a roll of her eyes and a snort of ignorance. She pulled her hood up over her brunette head and made to step past him.

Yet he intervened, stepping sideways to his right to stand before her. He implored earnestly, "It's not safe and the last thing your father needs is to wake up tomorrow and find that his daughter is missing. And now that I know what you are planning to do, I do not necessarily want to uphold the mantle of _lying _to the King."

His storm eyes held her cerulean as she gave him a challenging glare.

"Please just… think about what you are doing and the effect it's going to cause."

_'Please... stay.' _

He bowed his head to find his fingers brushing the back of her hand tenderly and he frowned. Foolish. He never expected to feel this way about Isabelle. It crossed the line between how close they could be. But he couldn't just deny what his heart felt anymore, nor interfere with its plans.

His gaze zeroed on their fingers as she slowly slipped hers in the spaces between his, shivers running down his spine as her soft, smooth skin brushed against his.

The feeling of her smooth skin in contact with his calloused palm and fingers felt like electricity running through him and he felt unable to pull away, feeling like his hand had been paralyzed as his fingers curled inwards until her small hand was gently enveloped in his larger.

Hope flared deep within his chest as he heard her sigh in what he hoped was acquiescence.

Movement ran up his arm and he brought his gaze back up to see Isabelle manoeuvring her way from his tender grasp and shrugging the dark blue shawl off hesitantly.

He almost felt weightless with relief as she removed the garment and returned it back to its hook.

"You're right," she breathed, approaching him, gliding gracefully across the room like a ghost until she stood in front of him.

And then he felt her arms snake their way around his shoulders, hands interlocking at the back of his neck, fingers idly raking through the short strands of his thick auburn hair making his scalp tingle.

She breathed a heavy sigh against his neck as she laid the side of her head on his right shoulder, and he felt the same burning desire to be close to her threaten to overcome him again. Allowing himself just one small moment, he tentatively wrapped his arms around her waist and held her as if he was holding a child, releasing a long, quiet breath and resting his head beside hers, turning his face towards her and nuzzling her silk hair lovingly.

He detected an unrecognisable scent in her hair, yet it was sweet and alluring, inviting him to further inhale. He closed his eyes as he did so.

Rain splattered against the window, bringing him out of his reverie as he pulled his head back to meet her questioning stare.

"I should go now, Princess. It would be unfortunate if someone were to notice the absence of the Princess's guardian and find him somewhere where he shouldn't be."

She nodded in resignation, stepping out of his warm arms. "I wish you could stay."

"I do too," he murmured, resisting the urge to reach out and stroke her silk hair. He'd already allowed himself one pleasure this evening. He needed to resist the temptation of allowing himself another.

Smiling softly to mask his reservations he stepped back and reached out blindly for the door handle. The golden light slowly bled in from the hallway, shadowing half of his face. "Until the-morrow, Princess," he bowed.

"Until the-morrow, Elmont," Isabelle replied gently.

Standing prostrate and leaving her chambers he closed the door gently behind him and leant his head back against its solid oak, closing his eyes momentarily as the image of him kissing her burned its way into his mind. How desperate he felt to relive that experience again. Pressing his finger and thumb against his closed eyes, disintegrating the image, he began to steadily make his way back to his chambers where he retired for the rest of the night.

* * *

"I'm going to ask you just once; _where are they_?"

"You should have left them where they were buried. They are born of dark magic. And once darkness gets a taste for light it will not stop… until it has swallowed the sun. We will _never _let you succeed. We owe it to God!"

The monk groaned in pain, almost choking on his own saliva as his head fell like a powerful force had dragged it down, chin touching his chest as another bout of energy slowly seeped its way out of his life.

Roderick reared back, an amused expression plastered across his aging face. "You owe it to _God."_

Slowly he pulled a knife out from his belt, brandishing the gleaming silver blade before the monk's dark, listless eyes as he struggled to lift his head up again. The Lord smiled smugly, satisfaction coursing through his veins as he caught awareness of the monk's now rapid breathing. The fool knew what was coming.

"Well, give him my regards."

Then the blade pierced flesh, slipping in between the ribs and slicing its way through skin, muscle and vital organs.

The monk choked on his last breath, releasing it quickly as his gradually dimming eyes stared at Roderick with a glassy expression before his body went completely limp in the chair.

Wiping his crimson stained blade under a cloth, Roderick replaced the blade on his belt and threw the blood-stained cloth carelessly over his shoulder to Wicke who caught it with a light chuckle.

His hands ripped the pouch from the corpse's waist and fiddled with the small leather cord unceremoniously until it was open. Flipping the pouch into his other hand he tipped it upside down, spilling all of its contents out.

The small, black shapes plunged onto the palm of his hand.

"Thank God they were still on him," he breathed, turning back to Wicke who dutifully, yet clumsily stood behind him after being caught returning to check on his teeth.

Glee surged through him as he smiled deviously at the imbecile who he chose to keep for company.  
"Take care of that, Wicke," he spoke, nodding back to the corpse behind him, "before he stinks up the place."

Wicke hummed, nodding enthusiastically.

The corners of his lips tugged upwards again, drawing a sinister smile across his face, eyes and face flickering with shadow from the scorching flamed torches. The flames tongues flickered relentlessly, gleaming deep within his brown eyes and possessing him with a golden demonic look.

"Very soon everything will change, Wicke."

Replacing the contents back within the pouch, he tied it securely to his belt before striding past his companion and up the stairs, out of the dreadful dungeon.

* * *

**Okay, so there we have chapter 6. Of course we were already in the AU section from chapter 4 and 5 with the developing feelings, but now we've ventured even further. SerendipityAEY, I hope I was able to present Elmont's view regarding his own feelings for Isabelle and their kiss in chapter 5. :)**

**Chapter 7 will be up as soon as I can finish it, but I can't promise it'll be as rapid as these previous updates have been, with sixth form and other events.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey, so its been a week since my last update. I hate keeping you all waiting for long periods of time so I have managed to squeeze in enough time to write this chapter. Just so you know, I probably will only be able to punch out a chapter every week or fortnight, due to life atm. Hope that's okay with you all. Anyway, lets find out who's gone missing, shall we? :D**

Chapter 7. Missing.  


* * *

Dark clouds hung over the pitch black sky, endless smears of coal black, smoky clouds trailing across.

A swarm of rain and harsh, chilling winds slammed down and towards them, the droplets exploding as they crashed into the ground, trees and the two mounted figures riding ferociously through its maelstrom, lightning strikes illuminating the way. The rain drenched its way through the rider's shawls, soaking them to the bone.

The pair loomed from over the top of the mound, their shadows stretching out like scouring tendrils. The trees rose into the dark sky like arms reaching up towards the heavens, shadows making them appear ominous and desperate.

The shorter yet significantly beefier figure was the first to stop and dismount from his stead, landing on the soaked grass and mushy dirt with a squelch, the second following shortly afterwards.

They traversed the terrain cautiously, arms slightly outstretched and knees bent as they attempted to stay upright against the splattering rain and the loose earth beneath.

Finally, they reached a secluded and remote area of Albion's lands. The larger figure held up his arm and the second almost walked straight past him until he noticed his master's raised hand and lumbered to a clumsy halt bedside him.

The larger figure turned to the fundamentally skinnier and held his burgundy gloved hand out expectantly.

The taller and thinner figure fidgeted about for a few moments, clumsy fingers fumbling with a small brown leather pouch on his belt until, finally, the laces about it came undone and he dangled the pouch ceremoniously in between his finger and thumb, laughing nervously.

The beefier man snatched the pouch away savagely. The corners of his lips tugged into a sinister smile, dark eyes gleaming beneath the hood of his burgundy shawl greedily as his excitment rose over the even more miniscule contents inside.

Without further ado the man drove two of his beefy fingers into the tiny crevasse into the pouch and tore it apart, leaving a wide opening. He tipped the pouch upside down and allowed the small black pellets to descend to his palm before swiftly curling his fingers over them, alarm sweeping across his eyes for a short second.

The power of those sacred relics was not to be wielded just yet. Not until he was ready.

Tilting his head back, he gazed up into the endless sky through half-hooded lids, the rain pattering down onto his face like tapping fingers, soaking his facial hair and slithering its way down his neck like snakes.

Malice sparkled in his orbs and surged throughout his entire body, another smile twisting his features.

"Up we go."

And the black, red streaked pellets sailed forth from his hand, the shell cracking as the rain water hammered down.

Every single piece of the plan was falling perfectly into place, steadily blooming like a growing flower.

Nothing or no one could stop him.

* * *

No one expected to spot a humungous stalk stretching up into the light blue, near cloudless sky the following morning once they rose and observed the land from their window.

Elmont certainly had not been prepared for it.

His first response was to scratch his eyes more firmly, believing himself to be imagining things when he first laid his itching eyes upon it, not that he could miss it. It was a thick chunk of vegetation spiralling into the sky only miles away from the kingdom.

Knowing instantly that alarm and near hysteria from the people, as well as curiosity, would ensue, he quickly garbed himself in his attire - black leggings, burgundy jerkin and black and silver armour. He fitted himself into his black leather boots before storming forth from his chamber, tying his scabbard to his belt furiously as he did so.

Worry raced through him as he made his way to the throne room. Had Isabelle ignored him and snuck out even later into the night once he had left, knowing that he would have returned to his own chambers? He knew that her thirst for adventure was unquenchable, and it gnawed at him as he broke out into a near jog towards the throne room.

The worry clutching at his racing heart immediately let go and evaporated, almost leaving him wistful once his storm eyes landed upon Isabelle who was standing beside her bewildered father and King with a confused yet curious expression plastered across her face, a warm and delicate hand softly resting upon his right shoulder.

The relief that she had listened to him and not snuck out smashed into him like a tidal wave, washing away whatever reservations he had about her disappearing earlier. His breath almost caught in his throat from the magnificent feeling rushing through his veins, the adrenaline slowly dissipating from his system and settling his near erratic heart beat, and he almost sighed in gratitude.

But he needed to remain calm and focused. She was safe, and that was what mattered most to him. He was determined to remain calm for his worried princess and bewildered King.

Her gaze caught his and she offered him a small, graceful smile which he returned, dipping his head momentarily.

"Elmont?" His attention snapped from the princess to the King who looked at him expectantly.

"Yes, Sire?" he bowed again.

"Gather the guardians. Lord Roderick is missing and we are heading out to investigate."

Bowing again and repeating his earlier phrase, he turned and bolted for the heavy dark oak doors, almost barrelling through them as he entered the courtyard where many of the guardians had already gathered.

Some were talking in hysterics, each summing up their different theories of such an occurrence. He was deaf to the theories of God sending something almighty down towards them for their misdeeds or the giants of Gantua fairy tale. Things such as that latter comment just simply weren't possible. Even if part of the fairy tale he had listened to beside his mother as a small child had appeared quite literally out of nowhere.

In truth, Elmont felt rather smug that Roderick was missing. He was unpleasant, controlling and greedy. Everyone he was near, apart from Wicke and the King – who clearly didn't seem to notice his flaws all that well – he brought grief to in some form. He saw it with Isabelle and he hated it, heart twisting, especially now that she was going to be married to him.

"Elmont!"

The Captain of the King's guardians allowed a small smile to grace his features as he turned towards the loud voice to face his long-time friend Crawe.

The other knight strode up to Elmont, shoulder-length curly brown hair bobbing along with his steps.

"Crawe," Elmont nodded, storm eyes sparkling cheerily. At least he'd have Crawe with him. He was one to take things at face value. Knowing about the giants of Gantua story, he would not take the sudden appearance of the beanstalk as lightly as Elmont.

"How about this, huh?" the other man asked, chuckling. "Prepared?"

Of course he would tease him on such things, Elmont thought lightly, his smile growing larger. The man always enjoyed teasing him and seeing if he truly was prepared for whatever the next day would bring.

Grinning, he replied matter-of-factly, "I am always prepared for everything."

Crawe shook his head, laughing again. "What? Like giants?"

The Captain snorted. "No, everything r_eal."_

He watched intently as Crawe's smile faltered, a serious demeanour now suddenly taking a hold of him as he stood straighter, right hand unconsciously gripping the hilt of his sword. "So what now, Elmont?"

Normally Elmont would not let his men get away lightly with addressing him by his surname only, yet Crawe was one of the few exceptions, being his best friend for over a decade; almost all of his life even. He preferred to be fair with all of his men, yet Crawe had addressed him by his surname so much that it became a habit that really never left him, even after he was promoted to Captain.

"His majesty has requested to gather all of the guardians. Lord Roderick is missing. We're to assemble and then make our way to the beanstalk. Maybe we'll find some inkling to his whereabouts."

Not that he felt so ready to find Roderick, not when a vile person such as he was betrothed to the princess and had an everlasting power hungry gleam in his eyes. There was something unsettling about him that put Elmont on edge; something that almost sent shivers down his spine and make his stomach churn ina sickening manner.

Yet he had orders, and his sense of honour told him that leaving even someone as he, without valid reason, was dishonourable.

"Very well, Captain," Crawe replied, all sense of authority now controlling him as he spun on his heel, his back to Elmont, and began striding towards the waves of guardians.

Sighing, Elmont dragged his right hand slowly down his face before pushing his hair back. He needed to focus on the task at hand and not his reservations against the pompous and missing Lord.

Following Crawe towards his now assembling men he glanced another short look at the phenomena ahead of him with an inquisitive expression.

He couldn't quite shake the feeling that he was about to embark on the most perilous adventure of his life. 

* * *

**Chapter 8 will be on its way. :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**And here's chapter 8!**

**Chapter 8. Ascent.**

* * *

The sun peaked at its highest apex in the sky, golden, blazing rays striking down upon the formal line of various horses, men and commoners that trod along the dirt pathway stretching along the clover green fields.

The Captain of the king's guardians sat, rocking atop his black stallion, Mezzanotte steadily next to the king and his daughter.

Storm eyes sharply glancing to the right, they settled upon his charge and beloved who stared straight ahead at the sudden phenomena before them in a calculative manner.

He knew that she was thinking about the fairy tale concerning the giants of Gantua. Much of her childhood had been spent by hearing such a tale from her mother during the nights. Yet when her mother had passed on, she never requested it to be read for her again. In the following few years he had sometimes caught notice that she had gone missing but _within _the castle, and he would find her in a secluded area, whether it be her own chambers or a lone and empty hallway, pretending to wield a sword and fight the giants off, calling herself the knight with the heart of a lion.

He'd stick to the shadows, leaning against the wall, a small and knowing smile tugging teasingly at the corners of his lips as he watched her hop backwards and forwards, running and slashing as she roared in triumph over her victory of them.

She did not take her gaze off of the beanstalk and so he turned to his left instead and stared evenly at Crawe for a few seconds, a dozen thoughts racing through his mind.

Crawe took many things at face value, and he assumed that his right hand man had taken the full truth of this event already. He had avidly listened to his father's stories as a child and he would likely believe that the giants were real.

After all the legend of the beanstalk had just now proven itself to be true.

So absorbed in his thoughts, he just managed to pull firmly back on his reins, fingers locking tighter around the leather cord in his hands, and stopped right beside the king, not a single step ahead of him and the princess.

Without any hesitation and knowing that the king would request it any moment he simply waved his left hand, gesturing towards the stalk.

Straight after a total of seven men garbed in black boots and leggings, crimson tunic and a single black plate of armour strapped across their right shoulder strode towards the beanstalk, searching the area and the nearby forest for any sign of Roderick and his companion.

"Did you find anything?" The king enquired earnestly as the men returned.

The leader of the group, a tall, lean man with piercing ice blue eyes and curly raven black hair that just touched both of his shoulders shook his head solemnly, although his face remained neutral as he responded.

"No, your Majesty. However we did find a farm not too deep into the forest who said that he had heard the commotion during the night and had seen the stalk grow. He also saw two horses running off spooked over the hilltop… they had no riders on them."

The king nodded silently. After a few seconds he finally spoke up.

"We can therefore only assume that they must have travelled up the beanstalk."

_'Why though?' _

That was the question that was nagging at Elmont's practical mind and it appeared that it was doing the same to Isabelle, whose forehead was creased deeply in thought, eyebrows angled down sharply and teeth absently chewing softly at the inside of her cheek.

He was almost distracted by such a simple movement from the beautiful woman that he nearly startled when the king addressed him quite suddenly.

"Elmont, assemble some of your best men, men who can climb."

"Yes, Sire!" he dipped his head in obedience, already knowing who he would select for this task.

From the look of things, Crawe looked almost eager, yet his face remained stoic. Only his eyes gave away the excitement of the adventure they were about to embark on.

Isabelle, on the other hand, did not look as thrilled. He caught her eye momentarily and caught the slight gleam of anxiety sparkling in them.

But knowing what his orders were, he returned her glance coolly, offering her a miniscule smile, as he dismounted from his stead, Crawe alongside him, and headed towards several of his men further back.

"Balk, Jones, Locke, Brandon, you're with me."

A chorus of "Yes, Captain!" was his response as they all then went to set their mounts somewhere out of the heavy sun light and near some water. They hitched them all at a nearby tree, offering them some, but not complete, shade from the sun and by a pitcher of water before assisting in raising the royal tent.

It didn't take long. With the vast amount of men setting the large dwelling, its stark red and cream outer layer was soon standing tall in the field, blowing ever so gently along with the crisp air.

Elmont was quite surprised to find his own small tent had been pitched after he had finished assisting the other men in raising their king's.

He strode towards it, ready to prepare himself with his necessities: his trusty mahogany crossbow, small, silver dagger and some rope for himself and the men as a safety precaution during their bound to be arduous climb.

He was caught off guard by a sight he did not expect when he stepped through the tent flaps, almost stumbling out as a result.

Isabelle was stood with her back to him, in all of her golden armour glory, examining something in her hands at the far side of the tent.

Squinting his eyes he found that she was handling his crossbow.

Without warning, the eighteen-year-old spun to her left side, arms snapping up sharply with the speed of a snake's flickering tongue, bringing the weapon up with her in line of her sight.

A smile stretched across his face as fond memories of her training session with him over how to adequately handle the crossbow came rushing back to his mind, flickering like a torches flame.

He silently observed as she adjusted her stance, sinking her weight slightly onto both of her legs, knees slightly bent like he told her to help her in asserting her balance.

Seconds later she whirled around only to pause when he aim landed on him. She hastily lowered the weapon in shock, despite it being unloaded, and stared at him flabbergasted, eyes unblinking and jaw hanging open slightly, allowing her full pink lips to form a small 'o'.

Trying to maintain a certain amount of authority, as her Captain, he deliberately banished the smile across his face, lips forming into a thin, straight line, and folded his arms over his broad chest, although he couldn't banish the feeling of amusement running through him. He was sure it was twinkling in his eyes as he fought against the twitches at the corners of his mouth.

"And just what do you happen to be doing with that, Princess?"

The princess shrugged nonchalantly, smiling meekly.

"Just remembering your training, Elmont."

He stared at her intently, eyes as solid as steel and unreadable. He was searching her own eyes with a penetration as powerful as the sun's warm rays, piercing her steady resolve for something that others would find unreadable.

But his trained eye and years of knowing her allowed him to read her like an open book, and what he caught glinting ever so slightly in the cerulean orbs he had fallen for the three years ago she had fallen for him stood out before him like she did right now.

Mischief.

Immediately his intellectual mind joined the pieces of the puzzle together, connecting the edges with ease."You're not coming," he began sternly, stepping forwards until he was towering over her and looking straight down his nose to her angelic round face.

Her lips parted in surprise and he caught the budding deception that was beginning to form on her lips as her eyes began widening minutely with panic.

"It's far too dangerous and your father is bound to notice."

Without bothering to cover up her previous attempt, knowing that she had been caught, she replied heatedly, "But I know how to defend myself, Elmont! You taught me!"

"You don't know what's up there, Princess," he tried reasoning calmly, placing each of his hands on her slim arms, fingers carefully gripping the soft, warm flesh of her forearm. "We can't risk your safety."

She stared silently up at him for what seemed like a lifetime, face contorting with a sickening look of fear as he felt her slim fingers briefly ghost over his left cheek. His heart began hammering in his chest wildly and he felt his throat constrict, like a snake beginning to squeeze the air out of his lungs as the feel of her soft fingers, still brushing against his cheek, began burning against his skin.

The words she near silently sobbed next was enough to crack his heart just a little bit more, simply from the desperation that laced her tone.

"And what about you?"

He opened his mouth to respond, yet no words escaped through his parted lips, dying in his throat instead that it felt like he would choke on them if he dared to try and speak them again.

His own hands slowly trailed up her arms, feeling her shiver beneath them, as they came to finally rest on either side of her cheeks, cupping her face tenderly within his warm and calloused palms.

"I'll be fine," he responded gently, hoping his eyes were shining with a much stronger sincerity than that which his voice carried. "Remember that I simply prepare for everything."

The worry that began to slowly drown him evaporated once she brought a small smile to her face, the tension within her muscles loosening as she held onto his words dearly.

He knew that she despised seeming and appearing weak, but so much had happened to her in her short life that she had endured and still carried upon her shoulders even now. The prospect of losing anyone else she cared about terrified her, burdening her with a worry and fear that she did not need.

Finally nodding and sighing in resignation, she leaned towards him, tilting her head up and sliding her eyes shut as she closed the small space between them and covered his mouth with hers tenderly.

The feel of her lips against his was like brushing silk against them as he closed his own eyes, bringing his left hand slowly away from her face and tilting her head up slightly further with three fingers, hesitantly deepening the kiss, his need to be close to her searing through his veins once again.

She seemed just as open to his desire also, for she stepped forwards and brought herself closer to him, slipping her fingers through his thick hair and almost making his body convulse in shivers like it always did.

They only pulled away when it felt like they were drowning from the pressure being pushed down onto their lungs, yet remained locked within each other's embrace, neither wanting to be the first to leave the others arms.

Her forehead touched his, lips just a hairs breadth away, desire to capture them once more tempting him. "Just promise me you'll come back. All of you are going up there together. Please make sure that you all come back down."

Closing his eyes briefly he willed himself to make her a promise that he knew would be extremely difficult to keep.

"I promise."

Drinking in the sight of her so that he had something he could hold onto he removed himself regretfully from her embrace, placing a second chaste kiss on her forehead and feeling a bitter coldness suddenly crawl over his skin as he stepped out of the tent, willing himself not to look back.

* * *

**:D**


	9. Chapter 9

**My longest chapter for this fic!**

**Chapter 9. Gone.**

* * *

Fear and fatigue drove her on, willing her to put one foot in front of the other as she followed Elmont through the thick forest, Crawe and the king only a few steps behind.

Breathing in the damp scent of the moss covered trees she tried to ignore the biting chill running through her entire body, tingling her skin. Her golden armour was ruined with small dents where she had been attacked, dirt and clots of blood.

She wrapped her arms around her chest, hands clutching at her forearms in an attempt to keep some body heat in her, yet the flashes of recent memories across her eyes did nothing but oppose it.

* * *

_"We can't hold them off anymore! We have to retreat!"_

* * *

The expression of defeat in the men's faces and body language once their Captain had announced the verdict was obvious before they filed out like a herd of wildebeest towards the castle and the secret escape that was built in underground swam in front of Isabelle's face as she kept her eyes low to the ground, stepping over any thick roots sticking up from the ground.

Cries of terror still rung in her ears and she remembered briefly covering them with her hands, almost believing that at one point they were bleeding, attracting the feral giants and their bloodlust.

Fear gnawed away at her; fear for those who were left behind in the ruins of Cloister with Roderick and his armada of giants.

And then there was anxiety and concern whirling together inside of her like a treacherous tornado for Elmont who had look haunted when he had crashed down with the descending beanstalk, Crawe beside him.

Because he had failed to keep his promise to her.

He had indeed returned, fulfilling one aspect of his challenging promise, yet there was Balk, Jones and Brandon.

He had told her that they had been caught in a hunting trap set by the giants and they had been provoked by one, killing Brandon and Jones savagely and leaving them broken beyond repair.

He didn't dare venture into how exactly they were slain, but Isabelle deduced from the stories that it was highly unpleasant.

Himself, Crawe and Balk had been taken to some stronghold where they had been bound and interrogated, refusing to acknowledge the giant's enquiries.

And then his voice had dropped a semitone, sounding darker to her somehow. Anger had rumbled in his chest. She had felt it radiate off of him in waves as she sat next to him on the grass not too long after he had finished his report to the king who had been horrified to find a giant falling from the sky and crashing right before them all.

She and the king had both almost recoiled in shock upon discovering the betrayal of Roderick and Wicke when Elmont had returned.

* * *

_"He just stabbed Balk. He didn't even show a shred of remorse. Just… just plain madness. He brutally stabbed him twice and then just threw him to the ground like some unused ragdoll!" _

* * *

She was grateful for not holding his hand as he ground the words out through clenched teeth, his balled fists clenched so tightly that the knuckles were bone white, as if the bone was about to pierce skin.

He mentioned to her that it was practically a miracle that they had survived. Locke had successfully managed to hide away when they were ambushed and had followed his captive comrades to their stronghold, sneaking past the giants with tremendous skill and saving them when they were being prepared to be cooked.

Locke had only managed to make it out alive with them as Elmont sent him down the night before he and Crawe returned to warn every one of the impending giant army massing to attack.

* * *

_"Roderick betrayed you, your Majesty. He planned to use the giants to take Cloister. He has the crown. I'm sorry that we failed in killing him, Sire."  
_

* * *

Except Locke hadn't beaten the giant that had plummeted screaming towards the ground.

The king, horrified, had immediately ordered that it be cut down. Her own objection had died on her lips when he glanced at her sharply with his penetrating steel eyes. His gaze had told her to be silent and let her friends go.

But that had been the most challenging thing to do in her life. Surprisingly as challenging as letting her mother go. She knew all things passed on eventually, but she had wished in that moment that they didn't.

She had sat on her bed, crushed, as if her one main reason for living had left her. Of course she had duties to fulfil as princess for her future role as queen, but without the love and support from her Elmont she just couldn't find the will to move, speak or do anything. Not when he wasn't there to see and hear it.

She had thought of his soft, velvet voice and how she would miss it. Charming looks and personality, soft pink lips which she had flatteringly kissed and his burning, passionate desire to protect her.

Relief, jubilation and love had all enveloped her warmly when he had crashed to the ground with Crawe, and uncaring of who was present, she had dashed towards the knight, engulfing him in a bear hug barely seconds after he had stood up, burying her face in the crook his warm neck.  
His own strong arms had snaked around her, head nestled beside hers before he murmured something about needing to speak to her father urgently and reluctantly pulling away.

He had returned only moments after to sit with her and address her with their new problem.

They had failed in taking care of Roderick, who still had some beans left in his pouch, because of the giant's interference. They were coming down any moment and they needed to retreat and defend themselves.

So they rode, abandoning the camp as they simply had no time and set up their defences.

The battle was long and arduous and in the end it wasn't enough, for the giants barraged into their defences with a relentless force and broke them down one by one until they were forced to run.

Many had been taken out in the retreat, thrown haphazardly, devoured and crushed by the giants as they shoved their way into the castle and its catacombs.

And then there was what had happened just before she got inside the catacombs herself.

As she assisted the Captain, despite his protests, in shepherding the terrified citizens and few remaining knights left Roderick had strode in, a crossbow which he had borrowed from Wicke in his hands and had aimed at the princess.

Fear had paralysed her entire body, she recalled, in that moment, her limbs suddenly the weight of lead as she stared square at the arrow tip pointed directly at her and the sadistic gleam in Roderick's dark orbs.

All she remembered afterwards was not the feeling of scorching pain running through her, or of the cold embrace of death as her vision flashed red but the sudden feeling of being weightless and constricted at the same time as she fell to the ground hard, a heavier weight on top of her, her head dazed as her vision swan from the sudden readjustment.

A familiar voice had cried out in pain, piercing her unusually dull hearing as dazed cerulean eyes suddenly burned in alarm as she stared, horror-struck at Elmont, head bowed beside her left arm… and a bodkin arrow sticking out from his left shoulder blade.

She vividly recalled the sensational kaleidoscope of fear, rage and adrenaline all coursing wildly through her veins when she scrambled beneath the dazed knight and pulled herself and he up, glaring daggers at Roderick, whom smiled malevolently, white teeth glistening, whilst she helped Elmont inside the passage way, sealing it off.

She had not been all that surprised to find that they weren't being pursued. Roderick had what he wanted – he ruled the kingdom of Cloister. It was only a matter of time until he sent his army onwards to take the other kingdoms.

They needed warning. And they needed their kingdom back.

Yet that dreadful feeling like if someone was breathing down the back of her neck made her hair stand on end. Roderick may not have chased them immediately but that didn't mean that he wouldn't send out a few giants to scour the lands for them. She jumped whenever she heard one of their thundering steps and exploding malicious laughter erupt from somewhere deep in teh unknown.

The best bet they had was to submerge themselves deep in the forest.

There was not really any other option then that against something that had a very limited amount of weaknesses.

If they had the crown things could have been different…

But they didn't and so they fled.

Not many had escaped and many had fled to other lands in some naïve belief that they would not be hunted down and killed after spending hours not being pursued. Some had simply perished.

There were now only a handful of people with them now; only ten, from what she could see, of Elmont's men, and several civilians that looked to be one family.

She shook her head, hiccupping a sob. They had suffered a heavy loss, and she could only pray for those who hadn't escaped. She dare not think what they were enduring under Roderick's tyranny.

Remembering their escape she glanced up at Elmont. He strode straight ahead, only looking forwards and occasionally beside him, the arrow still protruding from his shoulder. He refused to deal with it until they had found some form of refuge.

"We'll stop here," he announced shortly afterwards, bringing her train of thought to a startling halt. He briefly looked towards her and she saw his face was glistening slightly with perspiration, storm eyes flashing with physical pain. His voice, however, seemed unperturbed.

"Very well," the king answered wearily. Isabelle's concern for her father intensified. He had been dealt a blow harsher than anyone else over the loss of the kingdom. She knew that he was beginning to doubt himself and his ability to defend his people.

Yet no matter what she knew that he was a strong, determined and loving man and an equally as wise king. He just needed time to see that strength hidden within himself again.

Everyone made themselves comfortable, many choosing to lean against a tall tree and curl into themselves tighter to fight against the cool breeze rushing through the forest, its ghostly whistle being carried through the trees and their branches.

She remained standing and only went to seat herself once everyone else was settled. She had kept her eye conspicuously on Elmont who had done the same thing before taking a few steps ahead, eyes roaming the ground.

Curious and concerned for his wellbeing, she followed, shrugging off her father's anxious calling of her name by simply stating that she was going to help her 'friend.'

She found him not too far away from the group, sitting on a rock by a small river, back hunched and arms folded before him, elbows planted on his knees and hands clasped, fingers interlaced.

Approaching him as silently as a ghost, she went to kneel beside him.

The knight stared unaware ahead, brow furrowed in deep concentration, lines of stress creasing his forehead.

"Elmont?"

He remained silent and still. He looked like a statue to her. The only notification to her that he was actually sitting there living was his slow, deep breaths and the puffs of white air flaring from his nose.

She breathed his name again, almost breathlessly, and he blinked in response, eyes briefly catching hers.

"We need to take that arrow out of you," she gestured to the long wooden rod stretching into thin air from his shoulder, crimson blood circling the small wound.

"It's fine," he murmured absently.

She frowned, agitation surging through her, replacing her anxiety.

"No, it's not!" she snapped, expecting him to flinch or at least respond in some manner yet he didn't and it made her agitation boil to no end. Elmont, always having to make sure everyone else was okay but when he wasn't and someone picked up on it he would deny their accusations.

"We need to get that thing out you before it causes more harm! I've seen you flinch and try to cover it up as we've walked these past few hours. It's digging further into you!"

He turned his head towards her. "Since when did you become a healer?"

There was no humour in his eyes whatsoever. The storm orbs that had captivated her were dead with grief. He was clearly hinting a desire to be left alone.

She narrowed her eyes challengingly at him, lowering them suggestively to his wound before flickering back up to his blank face. There was no way she was leaving him until that thing was out.

"I am sorry for your loss. I know that as well as your promise you made me is hurting you too, but you can't blame yourself for things that you simply _could not control._"

"But I could control what happened to you a few hours ago," he answered softly, looking down to his fumbling hands, wringing one within the other subconsciously. "Had I not interfered you wold be the one with the arrow, dead."

He barely choked on the last word and it crushed her heart maliciously.

"What I'm saying is that there are superior things, like the giants, that cannot be controlled so easily. You pushed me out of the way, taking the arrow for me, but saving those from such a force as the giants who have very limited weaknesses is different. Now please, let me take this out of you."

A loud sigh slipped past his lips as he nodded, keeping his gaze low.

Her stomach flipped like a suffocating fish upon land as she took in a deep, shaky breath, settling herself higher on her knees so that she had a good view of what she was doing and placed her hands onto the arrows long body, curling her fingers around it.

He flinched against her, hissing through his teeth, almost making her recoil and think twice about removing it.

There were more practised hands for this but she didn't want to waste time with selecting who was the most appropriate for arrow removal. She just wanted to get it out of him and relieve his pain now.

Biting her lip in self-frustration she began to pull.

Elmont's cry of pain and the convulsions that ran down his body and through her hands and arms was enough to make her let go, as if electrocuted.

"I'm sorry!"

"Just pull it out, Isabelle, please!"

She paused. He had never addressed her by her first name before. The way he said it, how his lips enveloped the name created a warm glow inside of her and she smiled fondly for a moment before the seriousness of the situation descended like a dark cloud upon them again.

"You can do it."

A familiar burning ran along her hand and wrist, making her heart race when she looked down to find Elmont's larger hand holding hers. He gave her a short, reassuring squeeze, allowing her the strength to do it as she slipped her hand out from his and returned her attention to the arrow.

"Just don't think about it."

How was she supposed to do that? Don't think about hurting the one you love who just so happens to have an arrow embedded in his shoulder when it is obviously going to be excruciating. She wanted to snort at how ridiculous that sounded coming from the practical Elmont.

But willing herself to follow his advice, she banished all thoughts roughly out from her mind and pulled.

A long groan met with the squelching of flesh being torn by pointed steel exploded in her ears, making her heart lurch inside her chest as the arrow was torn free, the sudden freedom and spurt of fresh blood from the now open wound almost causing her to fall backwards.

Throwing the old arrow carelessly aside, she scrambled over to kneel in front of the panting knight.

His face still glistened with sweat and his usually wild and spiky hair was matted, some strands even falling across his face.

Admonishing herself for stalling by staring at him she hurriedly took out a cloth that she used to clean her sword occasionally and dabbed it in the water, twisting it to get rid of any residue it soaked up before rushing back over and wrapping it under his arm and around his shoulder, knotting it and effectively covering the wound.

They could only hope now that it would not become infected and that he would heal soon. His injury would leave him incapable of participating in some battles, if it came to it, but she wouldn't be surprised if he fought them anyway. He was stubborn like that.

A collective sigh slipped from both of them as he inched his way forwards towards the stream and splattered some water onto his face.

"Thank you," he gasped, sitting back down by the water's edge.

Wiping her hands, heart still erratic, she turned her stare upon him. That only made her heart even more erratic. Elmont was staring at her, affection adorning his eyes and expression in a magnitude she'd never seen him portray before, and it made her heart skip a beat and her breath come short.

Nodding she hated how meek and dense her response sounded. "You're welcome."

Absently she hoped that the others hadn't been alerted by his cries when she pulled the arrow free from him.

At some point she had moved closer to him, like a star was attracted to the magnitude of a black hole, and nestled next to him, head tucked under his chin and against his chest as his uninjured right arm wrapped itself around her shoulders, squeezing her arm lightly. She sighed lightly, relishing the warm heat radiating from his entire body into hers, obliterating the biting cold of the approaching winter.

They were unsure of what to do right now about their current situation, but they both knew that they would come up with a solution in time.

After all, all they had in the forest, apart from those who remained and each other, was time.

* * *

**:) More on the way...**


	10. Chapter 10

**My update! And just a few hours before my two week dead line (UK time)! Yeah! :D Here's the next chapter, everyone.**

**Chapter 10. Found out.**

* * *

Throughout the period they had huddled against each other by the small crystal clear ravine, Elmont had allowed his mind to wander, despite his reservations.

He did not want to relive the terrible experience they had all just faced. He did not want to see those he knew die in front of him in vile ways; have his home destroyed – his life, like his childhood torn from him by the hands of something that, yet again, he could not control; the grief and pained loss on Isabelle's face and the kings; Crawe's devastation; the malicious gleam in Roderick's eyes as he stormed into the throne room, aiming a crossbow at his beloved's chest.

He felt his eye lids pull back slightly, widening the spaces between his eyes, suppressing a snarl forming across his lips as a deep and burning substance of anger flared to life from deep inside of him, rising from his stomach to his chest and transforming into a dragon.

Elmont took a steady and deep breath in through his nose, sliding his eyes shut and suppressing the dragon, remembering that using anger in battle was an absolute way of being killed. Feeling nothing but rage whilst they ran was almost enough for him to turn back and try and take out Roderick alone. Rage was a powerful emotion. He had felt it before in battle and he knew how it felt after using it for the first few seconds after achieving victory over someone.

It felt really good for about ten seconds. But afterwards it brought the abominable rush of guilt. It had never left him, and it reminded him to never allow the powerful emotion to rule him ever again.

Parting his lips to release the long drawn in breath, he slowly lowered his head to look at the warm figure nestled next to him safely in his arms.

Isabelle's eyes were shut, long, thick lashes flickering marginally over her rosy cheeks as she breathed evenly. The corners of his lips twitched into a small smile, storm eyes shifting into a warm, electrical blue, gazing at her lovingly when her body shifted against his, the side of her head brushing along and burying itself further into his chest. Some of her long brunette tresses fell next to his neck, tickling the pale and revealed skin, almost making him squirm.

Unconsciously his arm wrapped itself tighter around her, sheltering her from the biting chill in the air, though it hardly affected him, having grown used to many uncomfortable climates before.

His eyes drooped from exhaustion, yet he forced his senses to ping alert, snapping his eyes open. Exhaustion had set in long before the battle, whilst he was up in the unknown, yet the urgency of battle called for him, denying any rest, and then afterwards he forced himself onwards to find a secure location where they could rest. Everything seemed to be resting upon his shoulders, yet, as the Captain and understanding his duty to serve and protect, he acknowledged this and spurred himself forwards in his duty, set on fulfilling it.

A light murmur erupted from his side and he looked down again to catch Isabelle's lips moving, forming low key words almost silently. His eyes flickered to her own pale eyelids that flickered more frequently than they had a few moments ago when he had last checked on her, and he wondered what she was dreaming about? He thought about asking her when she woke up, but it was highly unlikely that she would actually remember.

He had taken the silence as an invitation to ponder their next move. It was highly possible that Roderick had sent some of the giants out to search for them. Whenever they had heard a loud crash or anything remotely inhuman the group had instantly become alarmed, fearful that they were going to be discovered.

Elmont knew that Roderick himself wouldn't leave the kingdom now that he had control of it. The man was too much of a coward without his disgusting minions with him. But it didn't with hold the possibility of a few scouts being sent out after them.

He was prepared to take on whatever the slime had sent after them.

And whenever, if ever, they crossed paths again, this time he would make sure to be rid of him. Spare himself, the king and Isabelle from his sickening ways and tyranny.

The thought kept him so enamoured that he started, unfortunately waking Isabelle, when a familiar northern accent caught his attention, like a fish in a net.

"Princess, your –"

Elmont's eyes stared wide open at an equally as dubious Crawe who stood just in the clearing, the trees hanging over his head ominously.

The Captain's right hand man and best friend's face was flabbergasted, eyes wide, jaw hanging open, mouth slack and unmoving.

The Captain himself felt his breathing unexpectedly become shallower, as if the air had become thinner and an iron weight had been placed upon his chest.

He chanced a glance with the small figure nestled against his right side and saw Isabelle stare just as horror struck at Crawe as he was at them.

For once, to his chagrin, Elmont found himself at a loss for words. It appeared that Isabelle was too.

"Oh," the shorter man began, face still in a state of surprise but eyes twinkling ever so slightly. Elmont saw the mischievous gleam sparkling and he knew what his friend would do once he got him alone.

Elmont watched as his friend cleared his throat and coughed rather embarrassingly into his hand. He started again. "Princess, your father wants to see you. I suggest that you make haste."

"Of course," the princess murmured, slowly untangling herself from Elmont's arms and pushing herself up to her feet. He averted his now settling gaze to the ground as she stretched, uncomfortable with the direction his thoughts were taking him. The golden armour she was wearing was relatively thin and close to her form, accenting her curves. He felt his cheeks burn as he dipped his head down even further, hiding his face in embarrassment, rather flustered that he no longer had the same self-control that had once reigned over him.

Elmont watched the princess as she marched away, brushing past Crawe who cast her a small smile before turning his gaze back on to him. He felt his blood course through his veins, heard his heart pounding in his ears as the two stared silently at each other, challenging the other to speak first.

It was Crawe who spoke first. "So there's no 'it's not what you think'" he started, mirth in his voice.

Elmont pushed himself up to his feet, rolling his shoulders and craning his neck. The few hours he spent sitting in the same spot with Isabelle had stiffened his muscles, yet he felt them loosening as he walked over to stand directly in front of his long-time friend.

Smiling tightly, covering his still flaring shock and embarrassment, he played along with his friend's teasing. "Laugh away, my friend."

"So you're not denying it?" All mirth drained away from Crawe's face who nodded in understanding.

Elmont shrugged. "There's really no use in denying it now since you have just seen me and the princess, is there?"

"I won't say anything," Crawe announced to Elmont's surprise. "I'm sure you and the princess will be open about it whenever you are both _prepared_."

Elmont chuckled, amused that Crawe would immediately pounce on the opportunity to tease him about being prepared. Yet, he wouldn't deny it. He understood that he wasn't prepared for the remarkable change in his and Isabelle's relationship, or Gantua actually being _real._

Shaking his head, he stepped around his friend, patting him on the shoulder as he turned around to follow him.

"So where are we heading now, Elmont?"

"We head deeper into the forest. It's our safest option."

A drawn out silence trailed with them as they returned to the quiet murmuring of the survivors. Many had chosen to set up camp from whatever supplies they had managed to salvage from the underground catacombs, pitching small tents and cookery pots. The princess and king were conversing in a secluded area of the camp by a thick tree.

Understanding dawned on the knight, a wave of exhaustion sweeping across him. Everyone was emotionally and physically exhausted. They'd rest tonight and then continue their journey at first light.

Choosing to retire, he bid Crawe goodnight and made his way to a tree, sliding down its rough surface until he hit the ground, closing his eyes.

They didn't open again until first light.

* * *

**Just a bit of Elmont's thoughts on the recent events and, of course, more from Crawe. I have quite a bit planned for the next update and already know how its going to play out. There's more occurring in the next update that will spur the story on further. I hope you enjoyed this update. :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**This is a fairly long chapter (over 4,000 words!), but like I said before, it is important to the rest of the plot. Hope you enjoy! :)**

**Chapter 11. New friends and feelings.**

* * *

_'Another new day,'_ Isabelle thought condescendingly as she staggeringly emerged from her tent and stood up, stretching, feeling the tight muscles along her back loosen.

Sunlight bled hollowly through the intertwining arms of the trees, and she blinked several times to focus her vision towards the bright blue sky. The sound of voices and shuffling caught her attention as people packed up their survival gear, parents urging their children to pick up any stray pots and deposit them into their ragged rucksacks.

"Isabelle?" She whipped her head to her right to find her father approaching her. The lines around his eyes had not faded; in fact they looked much deeper than before, making him appear severely older than what he actually was. Faint purple circles had formed just beneath his steel grey eyes. Isabelle's heart clenched, almost causing her to choke on her breath. The last few days had been extremely unkind to her father.

He held an outstretched arm towards her and she cast her tired orbs down to connect with a white roll of bread in his hand. She took it gratefully.

"Elmont has suggested that we move again as quickly as possible. You'll need this whilst we walk."

"Yes, father," she nodded, lips curling into a thin but grateful smile.

Brhamwell's right hand reached up to rub the back of his neck anxiously. "He is pushing himself too hard, yet he knows what he is doing and I trust his judgment."

How could he not? There was a reason why Elmont was his first choice to be awarded the position of Captain and Isabelle knew it. They had never lost a battle under his leadership and strategic skill. Until now.

Mentally sighing and running a hand through her hair, she did not object once her father offered to tidy away her tent as she sank her teeth into the warm, crisp roll of baked dough lying in her palm, savouring its flavour as it began melting in her mouth.

* * *

Time whirled past her as she soon found herself following the path that two of the greatest knights of Cloister led them down. Rows upon rows of identical trees surrounded them, their branches pointing jaggedly up into the sky over twenty feet above them. Crisp brown leaves were unhinged from the branches by the wind and swept away, billowing above their heads.

She remained mostly silent during the journey, not wishing to distract Elmont, Crawe and the other knights who had survived and were currently navigating a safe route for them and protecting the group as a whole, having been placed at the front, sides and back of the herd in case any type of aggression was utilised against them.

She would occasionally engage in a whispered conversation with some of the survivors, comforting them or telling stories to the children who were curious about the life of a princess and other fairy tales.

Speaking of fairy tales, ever since Elmont's experience of Gantua and the giants, now made her feel uneasy, yet, for the children's sake, she cast her own apprehension aside and told them regardless, all the while wishing that they had never experienced the terrible events that they were going through and mourning for their lives being destroyed at the hands of one man.

The hours passed agonizingly slow. She felt the day's excursion begin to leave its effect on her. Her breathing was much deeper and slower, like fighting to keep oxygen running through her so she wouldn't collapse. Her legs were stiff, and she had to will herself to continue.

The sky's colour had shifted from a clear baby blue to a grey overcast. She prayed that a thunderstorm would not begin in fear of believing each clap would be the giant's footsteps racing closer and closer to them. The thought alone was enough to entice a dreadful shiver to run down her spine, racking her shoulders in discomfort.

She frowned, shoving the unwelcome thought from her mind as the knights at the front ushered them through a clearing. Isabelle steadily weaved in between the small sea of bodies up to the front of the group where her father, Crawe and Elmont stood, brushing hair from her eyes and pushing a long, think branch bristled with brown leaves over her head and discarding it behind her.

Stretched out before them, and their only way across to the other side where the rest of the lush green forest awaited them, was a roaring river, rocks sporadically protruding from its clear surface.

Isabelle allowed her gaze to roam carefully across the area, searching desperately for another and safer way across rather than the one that they were all thinking of.

There wasn't.

Yet, with some naivety, she quietly addressed the two knights regardless.

"No, Princess," Crawe responded immediately, looking over his shoulder at her before briefly glancing at Elmont who stood rigidly, arms folded across his broad chest. Isabelle could imagine the expression ironed across his face; thin pink lips pursed tightly, forehead creased in thought.

"Our only option is to traverse the rocks," Elmont murmured, back still facing her and her father. She barely managed to hear his words over the ferocious stream of rushing water.

"What about the others?" the king enquired worriedly.

"There's really no other option, father," she answered before either of the two knights could. "They have to try." She too wished that there was another, safer way, particularly for the children to cross, yet there wasn't.

Another stab of sadness plunged its way towards her heart at her father's dejected nod. None of them needed any more pain than what they had already gone through, yet somehow it always seemed to find her and the ones she loved.

Low whispers captured her attention as she turned her gaze away from her father to the two knights once more who were now conversing amongst themselves. Within a few seconds Crawe turned to face them and the rest of the group, informing them of the path they were about to take.

Fear coursed through her veins again as a chorus of protests and shocked gasps rushed towards her. Fear that those who had remained with them had now experienced enough and would follow the same path as earlier survivors had and abandon them.

Yet that did not occur once the king's voice dominated the opera of voices, silencing them as swiftly as a blade slicing through butter. A few short words was all that was required for the survivors to obey their king's commands and trust their protectors as they once had before all of the catastrophe had dominated their lives.

Silently Elmont took the lead of the group, testing the sturdiness of the rocks before propelling himself forwards onto one a few steps ahead. Cautiously, the line moved as each survivor took their turn. Elmont, by now, was across from Isabelle at the other end, carrying a small boy in his arms so that his mother could safely get across. Once the hooded figure was across he gently returned the child to the awaiting figure's arms before casting his gaze across the river directly towards her.

She felt the burning yet again in her stomach, and before she knew what she was doing, she was already skipping precariously over the rocks and across the river, two knights trailing her.

She smiled up at his anxious expression, hoping to appease him of his worry for her when suddenly an opera of roars met them.

Turning to the forestry she saw, with wide, shocked eyes, a group of ragged humans emerge from the trees, melting from its shadow into the warm sunlight.

The group they had encountered was worn; tattered clothing somehow sufficiently covered their bodies, strings of vines or whatever the group had salvaged adorning them. Splotches of black dirt spotted their attire, hands, neck and faces. The group looked wild, and a part of her thought that they also appeared cannibalistic.

Yet they did nothing, despite their various arms, as one stepped out from the thick line and approached the king and Elmont. He was a reasonably tall and beefy man, about as tall as Elmont. A mop of raven black hair curled in a tangled mess until the tips just brushed along his shoulders. An equally as dark and scruffy beard and moustache covered most of the lower half of his face, lips barely protruding through the fine bristle. Dark, beady mahogany eyes sparkled, fixated upon her father and beloved.

A deep north eastern accent emanated from his mouth as he addressed her father. "And what are ye' doin' 'ere?"

She remained silent, allowing her father to diplomatically communicate with the pot-bellied man, whilst choosing herself to stand just behind Elmont, tentatively hovering her cerulean gaze just over the edge of his shoulder towards the tall man who stood before her only parent.

She hung on to every truthful word her father spoke as he told their story to the man. "And we only wish to continue our journey."

Rumbling, intense laughter erupted from the large man's mouth, hands clutching his protruding stomach. The group behind him roared in laughter as well, the sound echoing into the trees.

Isabelle felt her body turn rigid, confusion and annoyance tearing at each other inside of her so that she didn't know which one to feel more. Unconsciously laying her hand on Elmont's forearm, she felt him stiffen, suggesting that he was in the middle of the same war as she.

Cheeks scarlet, the man finally managed to rein control over his outrageous bout, grinning and hissing small giggles through his teeth.

"You want to get through, eh? Well, it will cost ye'!"

"And what will that be?" Her father addressed the man, wariness lacing his tone. Isabelle felt her stomach coil in uneasiness. She felt uncomfortable with the turn in this conversation and where it was leading.

The coil inside of her stomach sprang; dread plummeted into the pit of her stomach and filled her mouth with a coppery flavour as the man's beady eyes settled upon her with a wicked gleam. His cheeks rose, eyes crinkling.

"We want ye' lovely lady there. That's the Princess of Cloister and with her value we'll be fed like kings for well over a month."

Immediately, her father cried in outrage, stepping forwards intimidatingly and staring up at the man with what she was sure was a wild fire in his grey eyes. At the same time, Elmont's left arm shifted, his warm hand brushing across hers briefly as he stepped forwards with the king, placing himself protectively in front of her.

The group behind her murmured in horror.

She heard some children sniffle in fear.

Armour chinked as the remaining knights encircled the group into a tighter enclosure of bodies, sheperding them like sheep in a pen.

"You will not touch her!"

"It's the only way ye' are allowed through, your _Majesty," _the beefy man chuckled mockingly as he illustriously bowed before the king of Cloister, seeking to entice the already bubbling rage within the middle-aged man.

"Fight me instead."

A deafening silence vibrated throughout the entire area, silencing those who were laughing instantaneously.

Bewilderment clouded her thoughts for just a moment as the same voice that she had grown accustomed to for nearly her entire life spoke out again.

"Fight me."

She froze as her now worried gaze traced every move Elmont made towards the taller man. "If you win you receive the glory of defeating a knight and shaming him in battle. Also, I shall give you this."

He plucked the silver cross pendant that she had gave him several years ago from beneath his armour and brandished it before the man. "If I win then you will let us pass without payment."

Her cerulean gaze flickered to the man as he stared down at Elmont quizzically. Elmont did not shift under the man's intense stare. She knew that he did not fear him.

After a few seconds the man nodded and the charged silence that had filled the air dissipated as cheers rang out throughout the forest, completely drowning the sound of the rushing stream behind them.

"Very well! No swords or any other weapons!" The man gestured absently with his hand as he faced his crowd. Two people shot out from the sea of bodies, rushing towards him with a long wooden staff in their hands. He took them easily from the two, hefting them both into a better position within his hands and throwing one to Elmont who caught it easily whilst discarding his sword, crossbow and dagger.

She tailed them as Elmont followed the man's large strides to a flat and long rock settled at the edge of the stream and precariously close to the edge of a short waterfall.

And then the battle began, the burly man hammering blow after blow onto the trained knight. Her gaze followed them hungrily, never missing a single movement from either man as the woodsman delivered powerful bouts upon Elmont who managed to successfully block and evade each one skilfully. However, she saw the mistiming in one of his calculations, as the woodsman threw Elmont off balance and sent his quarterstaff colliding just below his neck, across his shoulders, before following the previous attack with a low sweep to the back of his legs which sent the knight crashing hard onto his back.

She shrank away, hoping to become invisible to the man's sight as he teasingly lifted Elmont's silver pendant from his armoured chest with his quarterstaff.

"Guess this is mine now," he cackled as he lifted the chain over the stunned knight's head and swaggered off with his cheering crew.

A mischievous grin soon returned to her face however, and she unconsciously stepped out from the group again and rushed after them as Elmont leapt to his feet and sprinted towards the man's blind side, horizontally holding his quarterstaff out and propelling it and his weight into the man's back, causing him to fall flat on his face into the water.

"We aren't finished yet, my friend," she saw Elmont's excited grin as he stood ready in front of the man who rose unsteadily to his feet, a look of surprise plastered across his pale and wet face. She knew that look Elmont gave him. That look was one that was supposed to fill his opponent with the false belief that Elmont would become arrogant once gaining the upper hand. That they would emerge victorious.

They would not. Try as he might, she was now certain that the man would lose.

Her prediction was proven correct, for when the two lunged towards one another again, quarterstaffs clashing with the speed of lightning, the larger man began to slip into the defensive, desperately trying to block each and every one of Elmont's attacks that he was unaware of where he was being led.

Victory enveloped her, almost making her quake with jubilation as the man fell backwards off the edge of the short cliff and down the waterfall. Running over to the edge where Elmont quickly jumped down she found him attempting to coax the man to simply stand in the waist high water. Isabelle smothered a giggle behind her hand as she watched the sight in amusement.

"I'll take that back, thank you," she heard Elmont say as he reached down from the rock he was crouched upon and snatched the pendant from the man's staff.

She couldn't smother her laughter this time as whoever remained of her kingdom bounded over, cheering for the knight who had so bravely fought for their rite of passage. To her own amusement, the drenched man who still stood in the waist deep water, looking less panicked, was grinning himself, clapping his hands together fiercely and laughing.

"Good show…"

"Elmont of Cloister."

"Well, Elmont, you've got nerves of steel. Come on."

Her eyes caught Elmont's once he glanced back up at the group. Locking on to hers for a moment he grinned at her whilst he scaled the rock face with the man beside him. She heard him reveal his name as William Strider as they climbed before offering her hand to Elmont who, with a firm grasp, pulled himself up to stand in front of her.

His auburn hair was soaked, no longer standing wildly but flat, some strands matted against his forehead. Droplets of water snaked their way down his face and neck. Suddenly aware that she was following the clear droplets that slithered tantalisingly slowly down his neck and beneath his armour she hastily averted her gaze, admonishing herself at the guilty thought of removing his armour to explore beneath.

Without uttering a single word, they followed William and his group into the woods along the other side of the stream.

* * *

Darkness had fallen upon them now, yet a warm orange glow settled over them as they sat before a roaring fire. Isabelle relished the warmth emanating from the orange flames as they swayed from side to side in the pyre set on the ground, eyes watching the dancing flames intriguingly. William had offered them refuge for however long they needed. Elmont and the king were yet to discuss the period of their stay.

The sound of laughter and conversation was near oblivious to her as she replayed every movement in the fight between Elmont and William. Elmont had been so fluid in his movements; ferocious and poised. He had remained calm yet he was deadly the entire time.

Unrivalled.

Yet her worry for him had increased during the fight, especially when William had taken him down early into the bout. His quarterstaff had smashed into both of Elmont's shoulders. His cry of pain had made her flinch, knowing that the arrow wound that would forever scar his left shoulder would be aggravated.

The man sat next to her now, seeming oblivious to this as he joined in the merry crowd's laughter. However it soon came to an abrupt end as her hand shot out and enveloped his within her fingers before pulling herself and him up to their feet and storming unnoticed into one of the log huts she had been given as shelter for now during their stay.

Closing the door after they had entered she let go of his hand and ordered him to sit. He looked at her flabbergasted, parting his lips to protest, but she pointed more suggestively at the low wooden stool, eyes narrowed and unyielding. He sighed in resignation and fell onto the stool.

"What is this about, Isabelle?" He groaned, casting a curious look.

He genuinely didn't know? Or was he just bluffing? It frustrated her to no end, forming a low growl in her throat as she knelt down before him.

"You fought, regardless of your injury, and now it has surely become further inflamed. I need to check it."

To her surprise he did not object, pale blue orbs locked tightly onto her own, causing butterflies to flutter inside of her stomach as she slowly assisted him in removing the black and silver studded chest plate of armour over his head, taking care not to further aggravate the wound in his shoulder.

Twisting the now removed garment within her hands she spotted a dark crimson stain circling the puncture mark within the armour. Her lips parted as a small gasp tore from her throat. She did the same again after she placed the armour onto the floor beside her and placed herself behind him, finding another stain across the black plane of his jerkin. This time the stain was fresh, new blood seeping its way through. Her heart raced furiously inside her chest, pounding against her ribcage like a humming bird's wings as she failed in ignoring his perfectly structured form.

Although hunched over slightly so that he was easier to treat, she could still see how lithe and powerful his body was from years of dedication and vigorous training. Her gaze momentarily settled down on his hands clasped before him, propping his chin. Absently she remembered how warm and gentle they had been when framing her round face… and what it would feel like to have them elsewhere.

Admonishing herself for such impure thoughts, she shook her head slightly, releasing a shaky breath.

Elmont, perceptive as always, noticed her unease. "Are you all right?"

Nodding and willing herself to believe that she was, she mustered further strength into her voice and assured him that she was.

"It's just…" she swallowed heavily. "In order to treat this properly I am going to nee –"

She stopped herself and closed her eyes, trying her hardest to regain some composure.

"- Have to remove your jerkin."

_'Have to? Liar - You _want _to.'_

Without a word he did as instructed. Her first intention was to withdraw, breath catching in her throat.

Coughing to her side as a cover up she slowly leant forward, removing the old cloth that she had previously used to cover the injury to further inspect the angry red wound. Although small, it had still done some plausible damage; pink outlined the open wound in a sign that it was already beginning to heal. Bright crimson blood surrounded the wound, clotting the puncture and effectively blocking anymore residue blood from leaking forth.

She sighed in relief, reaching over the old wooden desk beside her and retrieving a small copper basin with water and a cloth. After removing the old cloth, she began tenderly circling the spot around the open wound, taking extreme care not to aggravate it further and cause any fresh bleeding, all the while trying her best not to make Elmont hiss in pain again.

After a few silent moments, she finished wiping the wound and dressed it in a new piece of cloth, wrapping it around him several times for a more secure fitting, one that would better cover the wound and apply pressure to it to combat the bleeding. All the while she was conscious of her soft fingers brushing against his smooth, warm skin and she fought her hardest to push the thoughts dwelling within her train of thought.

She could feel her neck and cheeks grow warmer with embarrassment as she finished, yet as she drew back her eyes roamed across his back, eyeing the taut muscles beneath and his shoulders rising and falling with each breath. Isabelle resisted the powerful urge to trace the length of his spine with her fingertips, lean against him, or softly press her lips to his uninjured shoulder. However the elicit thought was enough to send chills running down her own spine.

Despite this, she did not back away from him. It felt as if she was being drawn to him like a star to the gravity of a black hole. The thoughts roiling inside of her mind like a raging war did absolutely nothing else but draw her closer to him instead as she forcibly removed her left hand from his shoulder, feeling herself suddenly turn cold from the lack of contact.

She desired to feel that burn again and it only intensified when he slowly turned around to face her, pale blue eyes locked onto hers and sparkling with the same desire that shone in her own. Her eyes, despite her hesitance, trailed down from his own clouded gaze, along the slope of his neck and finally over his chest, eyeing the fine hairs before noticing a small jagged white line running just underneath his left collar bone. Her fingers hovered mere centimetres away from the puckered skin, her heart pumping so furiously that she thought it was going to rip her chest open as the deafening flow of her blood rushing through her veins pounded in her ears.

An electrical charge settled in the miniscule space between her fingers and the scar on his chest. Sighing, she forced herself to draw back, breaking the static charge between them as she reached over and lifted his jerkin from the floor, eyes deliberately settled on the material rather than his eyes or handsome face as she offered it silently to him.

They both stared at the jerkin hanging in the space between their faces, baited breath held between them. Then, slowly, he took the jerkin and stood, redressing his bare torso.

Her gaze was magnatised towards him as he dressed himself, taut muscles stretching and rippling across his back as his hands pulled the edge of the jerkin down over his chest and stomach, a perfect t-blade appearing across his back and shoulders. A lump lodged itself in her throat, leaving her mouth parched as the desire whirling within her threatened to combust.

Neither breathed a word as Elmont stepped towards and knelt in front of her, his knees barely brushing against hers. Her heart skipped a beat and her breath came out in low rasps as his eyes searched hers thoroughly. Nothing but the sound of their own breathing filled the silent air as his face inched closer to hers. With each second that passed by she felt her stomach coil in anticipation, finding that she was unable to breathe. Yet that pressure was released the moment his finger tips traced the line of her jaw and his silk lips touched hers once. Twice.

She revelled in a few blissful seconds, body relaxing as he released her from his spell and pulled away, his eyes now a warm electrical blue as he thanked her silently and stood up, bidding her a goodnight and choosing to leave his armour behind.

Staring at his retreating back she forced herself to bid him goodnight and say nothing more.

She was feeling more towards him. Wanting more from him – and she was afraid.

* * *

**Soooooooooooooo, what did you think? Hope its not dragging, but I wanted to show how Isabelle is beginning to feel even more for Elmont now. We had a bit of his reaction in the previous chapter but I will go over his own new feelings in the next update briefly as we delve even deeper into the story's main events. So, again, I hope you enjoyed! :D**


	12. Chapter 12

**On a role with these updates! xD Oh, I'd like to thank my wonderful friend SerendipityAEY for making the beautiful front cover for this story. I did not expect it and to wake up to that this morning was wonderful! Thank you so much, girl. You rock! ;D**

**Of course, all of you readers rock as well!**

**Chapter 12. Learning.**

* * *

Storming from the darkened and charged atmosphere of the hut, Elmont felt a restriction lift off of his chest, allowing him to breathe. In taking chunks of air, as if he had been submerged in water and his head had only just broke the surface, he felt like a lumbering blind man stumbling through the dark as he found refuge beside the shadowy silhouette of a tree.

His hand, as if burnt, swiftly withdrew itself from the tree the moment his palm ran over a thin layer of damp moss. He instead chose to lean his arm against it, the sleeve of his black and burgundy jerkin covering the still heated skin beneath.

He felt as if he were on fire, the skin of his back still burning from where Isabelle's fingers had brushed against him multiple times. It was enough to send shivers down his spine. He shouldn't want such things.

_'You would only continue to be dishonest with yourself if you said that you didn't want more.'_

Squeezing his eyes tightly shut and further leaning his weight against the sturdy tree until his head brushed the thick, jagged surface, he fought against his own line of thought that was demanding he return to her, take her in his strong arms and continue his previous lines of kisses and never stop.

As soon as the thought crossed his clouded mind he snapped his eyes open, vivid blue replacing the pale storm as he briskly walked towards his own given hut. He couldn't, just _couldn't_ feel this way. She was the Princess of Cloister, for goodness sake, and he was only a mere knight! If her father were to ever discover their relationship before they were ready to inform him he was certain that he'd never even be able to so much as look at her again without some form of punishment.

Yet the very notion of that ever happening was, to him, above all other punishments. Nothing compared to that than being forbidden to even lay his eyes upon his love.

The thought alone felt like it could kill him right then and there. His hand absently went to lay across his chest, over his thumping heart, as if wounded.

_'You'd have an excuse to return,' _his own voice, darker and disturbingly seductive, whispered to him. _'Your armour is still in there. Just go in. How would the king ever realise when he's not even awake?'_

With panicked blue eyes he cast them along his surroudnings. Amongst the group of laughing men who were still huddled around the dancing fire he couldn't see the golden armour of the king glinting in the light at all. For a single moment he thought of listening to the voice and succumbing to his desire to return and greet her glowing presence. However, his rationality came rushing back to him.

"No!" he hissed as he all but ran to his hut, trying his best to maintain a calm composure.

Bursting in and nearly slamming the door, he settled himself down onto the single and narrow wooden bed at the far side of the two room dwelling, ignoring the creaks as he fell onto it, focusing instead on trying to stop the quaking of his clasped hands and steady his uneven breathing.

Sleep – he just needed to sleep on it and then he would be over it.

Laying back and allowing his head to hit the soft pillow beneath, he tried not to compare it to the gentleness of her hands. Taking a deep breath, he slowly closed his eyes, allowing sleep to claim him and his exhaustion.

Yet as he felt himself fall into oblivion the thought of what might have happened haunted him in his subconscious – and he only managed to scratch at the surface of awakening. He was left abandoned to subject of his unbridled passions.

* * *

The next day his eyes snapped open, awakening him in a clammy sweat. Rolling over to his right side and gasping from both pain and the clarity of the dream he'd experienced he carefully pushed himself up to a sitting position, running a shaking hand through his sticky hair.

He painfully bit his bottom lip in frustration at the vivid images of the dream flashing through his mind; how he enveloped her slender form in his powerful arms; hungry lips seeking hers and responding to her own mix of dominant and gentle kisses in kind; hands eagerly exploring the contours they'd never dare dreamed of venturing over before.

His scalp tingled from where he could have sworn he felt her fingers dig into and pull on his hair, and he quickly whipped his right arm up behind his head, hand grasping nothing but thin air and his soaked hair. A rush of relief washed over him, and he pondered why, of all times, must his emotions demand for him to act on his passions for her. It was honestly the most indecent time for them to strike.

Despite his fear of the king possibly stopping him from even so much as look at his great love again, he feared something considerably more:

Losing his self-control.

Elmont liked self-control. He liked abiding by the rules – such the opposite of the princess. He liked practicality and preparation.

But all of that seemed to crumble around him every time his thoughts drifted to her. Whenever he thought of her now his stomach would tighten as his thoughts took him to more delicate places of her beauty. He felt like he no longer had control of his limbs, as if he were a puppet on a string and his maker would force him to dance over the obstacles set in his mind and sail straight into her arms.

He'd noticed her own desire when she had treat his wound once again in the previous evening. Her fingers had ghosted so delicately over his skin that he suppressed the shivers threatening to tingle down his spine, instead tightening the planes of his well-toned muscles. Every time her fingers drew over the surface of his back he'd felt a trail of fire being left in her wake, soaking into his skin and blazing in his gullet, gut instinct demanding him to turn around and hold her with the intent of never letting go.

Yet he resisted for both of their sakes, managing to stop himself from kissing her a third and more passionate time. A virtuous man, such as himself, did not just act on some pubescent childish need based entirely on sexual attraction. He'd fought the fog that threatened to cloud his judgement with lust as he turned to face her afterwards. When he saw the same emotion misting over her cerulean eyes – in which he'd almost felt his carefully structured control collapse - he also saw the conflict within; the fear.

He understood that she feared rejection – he would never deny her anything – and whether or not it was truly what she wanted. He did not think that she cared as much as he on her father's opinion. All she knew was that she loved him.

And of course he loved her back. more than anything in the world, despite having initially fought it three years ago when he first found the emotion concerning her deep within himself.

Now he only fought the urge he was constantly experiencing whenever he was near her.

No matter its strength, he was strong. He would hold out.

Deciding that he needed to clear his head, he climbed to his feet and gently pushed the door open, stepping out into the cool breeze. The air fanning across his face seemed to carry all of his unease away with it, comforting him as he cast his gaze around the near silent woodland camp.

Barely anyone he recognised, save very few who lived here, were present, acting upon their daily duties of cooking and settling their children down to eat. His sharp eyes inspected their goods splayed out on the dirt ground before them. Gleaming silver pots and cauldrons stood in the light. Few of the dwellers clothes, whilst thick, looked rather illustrious, some wearing dressing that had golden thread weaving through it. His forehead creased, eyebrows arched low, fairly suspicious of how mere woodland dwellers could acquire such glorious objects and clothing of high class as he tore his gaze from them and searched for something else.

The thought of seeing the king and addressing him on the manner of their stay here swam across his mind, yet was quickly obliterated when his gaze stilled on the hut directly across from his.

The same hut he had been in last night where his relationship with the young woman within had very nearly pushed him to do something he'd never thought he'd do.

Even though he was aware of his armour still standing in there, he didn't want to enter at the fear of nearly acting on his emotions once again. However he found he couldn't control himself as he walked towards the hut. He vividly thought of the puppeteer playing with the strings again as he approached, powerless to stop himself as he came to a halt in front of the door.

He gently rasped his knuckles against the door, calling her name. No reply. Tentatively, he pushed the door open and poked his head through. There, lying on the single bed at the far end of the cabin and fast asleep, was Isabelle.

Smiling to himself and partially relieved he slipped in through the small gap between the door and the wall, quietly making his way to his armour which still stood where it was deposited last night.

With each step he worried that he was making himself more heard over her slow, deeping breathing and that he would rouse her at any given moment. The worry ate away at him, putting him on edge as he carefully leant over and grasped his armour chest piece, lifting it into the crook of his right arm, eyes never leaving her silent form.

Before he even realised it, he was crouching at the edge of her bed, face hovering in front of hers that he could just feel her breath flutter across his cheek. Even in her sleep she looked just as beautiful to him as she always had – and so at peace.

That was something he hadn't seen in a very long time, ever since her mother's passing. Her deeply hidden trauma was always visible to him above others. It was one of the reasons why he elected to take her to the lake every year for the anniversary of the former queen and her daughter's final visit; where he'd make sure that she was the happiest person alive.

Seeing her the way she looked right now, free from all of the stress, catastrophe and heartbreak brought him solace.

Unconsciously, he gingerly reached out and drew his white knuckles down her right cheek. She stirred slightly upon the stroke but did not awaken, and he found himself slightly disappointed that her eyes didn't open, like curtains, to reveal the two dazzling cerulean depths that he always longed to stare in to.

Electing to allow her further rest, he withdrew his hand and leant forwards, closing his eyes and delicately placing a chaste kiss upon her silent and unmoving lips, tenderly raking the fingers of his left hand through her brunette tresses.

Opening his eyes he found that she was still asleep. Smiling to himself at how peaceful she looked, he stood up and silently swept out from the small enclosure, softly closing the door behind him and striding back over to his hut and depositing his black armour inside.

Stepping out again he found more people gradually emerging, the king among them. Without a seconds hesitance he made his way over to Brahmwell.

"Ah, Elmont," he greeted the knight smiling. However Elmont still noted the weariness across his face and in his eyes.

"Your Majesty," he bowed. "I wish to discuss how long our welcome may last here."

"Ah, yes," the king replied, crossing his left arm over his chest and propping the elbow of his left arm atop, knuckles resting beneath his bearded chin. "I have spoken to William already last night. After my daughter dragged you off to treat your wound I had assumed you went to rest not long after."

Elmont swallowed, fear growing in the pit of his stomach. The king couldn't possibly know, could he? His steel eyes were unreadable, and it scared Elmont more than he previously imagined.

"She looked very concerned about you when she went to dispose of the old bandaging she used to cover that wound of yours."

A great gust of relief barrelled into Elmont and he almost sighed in relief, only managing to catch it as he sternly reminded himself of who he was before. Someone who didn't know and who he wasn't quite ready to tell about Isabelle and he yet.

Wishing to steer the conversation elsewhere he quickly complimented Isabelle's healing qualities and enquired about William's final verdict on their stay.

"We are welcome for as long as is necessary."

_'Good. Everyone is exhausted. We could all use plenty of more rest before moving on. Or maybe they could even help us. They seem to be warriors.'_

He immediately chastised himself for that final thought. He would_ not_ involve innocent people who did not associate themselves with the affairs of kingdoms across Albion. They're lives were not expendable like his and they had the right to do as they pleased. This was his and his men's affair.

_'But if we could contact our allies…'_

"There you are!" A familiar north eastern voice boomed. Elmont spun around on his heel to meet the glowing face of William Strider approaching them. He lunged before the knight, arms spread wide like an eagle's wings, and clapped both of his shoulders enthusiastically.

"William, it's pleasant to see you," Elmont greeted, a thin smile crossing his face. He was sure that the king was smiling behind his shoulder.

"It is a pleasure to see you as well, my friend!"

_'Friend?'_

An inquisitive expression formed over Elmont's face for a split second.

The burly man missed his questioning stare, still smiling broadly, revealing two rows of faintly yellow and straight teeth through the bushy mess of his dark facial hair.

"You and your people are welcome here for as long as you like, Elmont!"

"Yes, my king has just informed me," the Captain of the king's guardians flexed his fingers unconsciously, feeling slightly awkward at the broad openness and proximity of someone who had suddenly announced that they were friends and who he had fought not even a full day ago.

As if William sensed this, he stepped back, releasing Elmont from his hold, his toothy grin diminishing into a smile the knight could barely see through his thick beard.

"Come with me, my friends. There is something that I would very much like to show you," William announced as he turned around, his back facing Elmont, and began walking away further into the forest and from camp.

Following, and briefly glancing over his right shoulder to see that the king was also tailing him, he called out to the large and retreating figure. "And what exactly is it that you want to show us?"

He was aware the whole time that his right hand had automatically, as a reflex, drifted to his sword hilt that was safely in his dark scabbard and strapped to the left side of his belt.

"Our way of life."

* * *

**Okay, so Elmont understands his own developing feelings and the magnitude of them as well as Isabelle's, hence the title of this chapter. He also understands, no matter how tempting it is to ask for their assistance, that his and those who survived Cloister's affairs are their own. And in the next update we will learn William and his people's way of life and what our lovely, wonderful Elmont thinks about it! As always, hope you all enjoyed and that I'll see you for the next update! :D**


	13. Chapter 13

**Managed to squeeze this one in through a break in my essays. Its nearly two in the mornin here but I'm wide awake! That's what a can of Monster will do to me. :P Anyway, here's the next update. Hope you all enjoy.**

**Chapter 13. How We Live Now.**

* * *

Through the crisp brown shrubbery Elmont peeked in between dry leaves that barely hung on to their branches. Brahmwell and William were on either side of him, crouching low so that they were obscured from sight.

The three had waited there for an unknown amount of time and to Elmont it began to feel like years as he blinked roughly from steady boredom. He was a patient man, yet when it came to beating around the bush, as he stated it, he found that carefully constructed patience melting away. When it came to pressing matters, such as the survival of their gracious hosts, he did not like to be taken on detours.

Sighing, he asked wearily, "What is this, William?"

"Shh!" the burly man hissed, raising his left arm up, his hand open in a gesture of silence.

Elmont raised both of his eloquent eyebrows in a manner of distaste, yet chose to remain silent as the sound of hooves clicking and wheels rolling over dirt and stone drifted to his attention.

Through the shrubbery a small grey pony, its glossy silver mane shining in the sun, trotted past absently, pulling at an old wooden cart with a middle-aged man and young woman seated at the front. The cart's surface was a dark shade, black marks of age and weariness painted over it. Its contents were sheathed by a huge faded brown blanket, whatever was beneath it clinking with each shift. The man was relatively slim and looked strongly built, despite his age, blonde hair streaked with silver appearing glossy under the sun's glare.

The young woman beside him was very beautiful, with fiery auburn hair that glared to life like amber flames as it was whipped behind her head by the oncoming wind, accenting her pale moon skin. Piercing emerald eyes stared straight ahead, as unaware as the man beside her was of the three following them with their gazes behind the shrubbery.

Both were dressed rather elegantly, the man in a purple and gold embroidered cloak with black leggings and boots, whilst the woman adorned a short dark green coat, black lace weaving around the rims of the coat and its sleeves. Cream and slightly stained with wear leggings and light brown boots covered the rest of her as they rode on.

The memory of some of the villagers sprang to Elmont's mind peculiarly. How they were dressed was similar to the two unsuspecting travellers now passing through the enchanting forest pressed at his front thoughts, spurring him towards something.

They stole from them.

The pots, pans, some of the house items and the clothes were not rightfully theirs.

A life of thievery was how they lived.

Immediately alarm bells rang in his head. They shouldn't stay with law breakers. It was against his duty, his beliefs and everything he served and stood for.

He understood William's motive now and what he intended to show them.

And for that he should apprehend him.

Yet something held him back.

When he had surveyed the campsite earlier he saw children running around, laughing, helping, eating and looking happy. They weren't vindictive like some he had apprehended in Cloister beforehand. These people had taken them in with kind and good spirits when they just as easily could have left them to fend for themselves as they had before.

They were doing all that they could to survive.

With a sickening realisation, he understood that this was how they would all have to survive from now on.

How could he stop that and condemn them when they had already offered them refuge?

Relaxing, releasing the tension in his muscles, he slowly settled himself down lower, black leather boots digging further into the moist soil beneath.

"Watch," William murmured. Elmont and the king watched as the raven-haired man craned his head up towards the towering trees and made a number of signals with his hands, gesturing to the left, right and spinning in small, fast circles.

Elmont's sharp eyes caught sight of the interweaving bridges stretching from tree to tree and the miniature black dots prowling across them, some swinging into view as they rode on ropes in complete and utter silence.

They stalked their unsuspecting prey like jungle cats, crouched low, yet at a height like an eagle; Silent, deadly and as fast as lightning.

His gaze was magnetised to them individually, surprise filtering through them and his expression as they further approached their prey, steadily growing closer and closer with each passing second.

Within moments they were directly behind, above and in front of the oblivious couple, heads bowed and gazes zeroed on them. Several of them tensed, reaching for something at their belts. Elmont prayed that they weren't intending to harm the two folks.

"Now!" William bellowed.

The man at the cart pulled on his reigns, bringing the horse and cart to a halt as he searched around him. Elmont caught the confusion in his ice blue orbs, understanding dawning upon both him and the woman's faces far too late as their stalkers descended upon them, leaping from the bridges, scaling the trees with the speed and dexterity of a spider and sliding down untangled ropes with cries of determination.

Chaos ensued. The woman cried for help desperately, the man grunted as he fought several of his assailants over control of the reigns, and the pony whinnied in fear, eyes blazing with an insatiable wildness and its head tugging harshly on the reigns, fighting both its master and villains in blind panic as it tried to gallop away from the danger.

Yet within a few moments, where more cries ensued along with a brief struggle between the assailants and the man and woman, they brought them down, pushing them both down to the ground and binding their hands behind their backs and their ankles together to keep them from escaping.

"Help!" the woman cried hysterically, tears streaming down her pale face.

"No one's gonna 'elp ya', sweetheart," one of the assailants sneered, kissing her roughly on her left cheek and causing her to squeak and shuffle away from him in terror, eliciting a chorus of laughter from the group and William.

Only Elmont and the king remained silent. Disgust surged through Elmont at what he had just witnessed, yet none more than the blonde young man who had taunted the trembling woman, who by now had pressed herself into her company's side and buried her head in his shoulder, weeping pools of tears that stained the purple shoulder of the man's coat in a dark circle.

Her actions only brought about more laughter, amplified by the man's empty threat that the authorities would hear about this and track them down.

"No one's ever found us, mate!" the same man who had kissed the woman sneered, placing the blunt tip of his flint blade under the man's chin, forcing him to look up at him.

"That's enough, Douglas!" William barked, emerging from the shrubbery, a wary Elmont and stunned Brahmwell trailing him.

The woman's eyes suddenly flared to life at the sight of the two, recognising them. "Captain Elmont! Your Majesty! Please, help us!"

Despite his gut prompting him to do so, Elmont forced himself to remain where he was standing, just staring at her, desperately hoping that she could see the despair in his eyes.

Whatever hope burned within her emerald eyes before was now extinguished when she realised that he wasn't going to help, horror twisting the delicate features of her face that reminded him so much of Isabelle. Despite the major differences in both of their appearances, seeing a woman who did not look that much older than Isabelle and the death of hope and the birth of horror across her features tragically struck a chord within his beating heart, reminding him of a time when that same look had distorted his love's angelic face.

The man glared at him, and he quickly averted his gaze, his neck burning and breath quickening.

He wanted to set them free, reload their cart that the men were so appallingly looting and set them on their way, all the while subduing those who had wronged these people.

However he understood their motive, and although he never envisioned himself doing the same thing or standing by as he bared witness to such an act, he realised that it was they, and what he and his company must now do, to survive.

Ignoring the thumps as the loaded objects were thrown to the ground he scarcely registered the items they had acquired from the cart, yet, from William's joyful response, he deduced that it was just what they needed.

"See? This is what we do!" William announced excitedly, slapping Elmont hard on the back. He ignored him and instead approached the two bound figures. The woman continued sobbing into the man's shoulder, who instead glared at him savagely.

"Where are you from?" he asked them quietly, hoping that they would answer.

"Why do you want to know?" the man spat vehemently, expression contorting into a snarl. "Planning on moving on to loot our home next?"

Closing his eyes, he bowed his head and took a deep, steady breath, trying to remain calm despite the wrong that was pulsing through every fibre of his being.

Shaking his head he responded in the same quiet tone. "No. I'm just going to let you go. These people won't harm you and whether any of them intend to I won't let them. You have my word."

The man continued to glare at him whilst the woman sobbed relentlessly.

Realising that he wouldn't get anything out from them, he slowly removed his dagger from its sheath on his leather belt and leant towards them.

The man's breath hitched and he shuffled back in fright. The woman's head beside him snapped up and her eyes instantly blazed with fear again as she yelped.

"Shh…" the knight soothed, heart aching for them the entire time as he carefully severed their bonds. Replacing the dagger to his sheath with a click as the two rubbed their raw wrists tenderly, he stood up whilst the king went to crouch beside them and console them, approaching the cart and looking through the goods they had acquired.

Small bundles of food, clothes and other house objects were scattered amongst the ground. Bending over he scooped up a small pile of bread, two water skins and a few valuables that looked personal, turning around and returning to them.

"Here," he murmured, handing them the items and helping them rise shakily to their feet. Both convulsed in shock as they stared at him flabbergasted.

A stab pierced his heart. Intimidating thieves and wrongdoers didn't faze him, only strengthened his focus, yet applying that same intimidation to two innocents now, even though he hadn't been the one to commit this act directly, pained him, and a surge of guilt washed through him.

"T-thank you," the woman stuttered, face still distorted with fear but eyes shining with gratefulness. The man stared at him with a sudden expression as solid as stone.

"Jural," the man said.

Elmont blinked.

"I beg your pardon?" Brahmwell said, bewildered.

The man turned his unreadable gaze towards the shorter man, looking down at him by his nose. "Jural is the kingdom we hail from. Your ally. Upholding a peace with them now will be difficult since you have just wronged two of its citizens."

"You don't understand," Brahmwell implored earnestly. All Elmont could do was think calculatedly.

They _needed _Jural's help. More than anything.

"Our guards will find you and make you pay for this," the man seethed, spinning on his heel and striding away, his companion beside him.

"Wait!" Elmont cried, propelling himself forwards and lunging to a standstill in front of them. The two paused abruptly. The man huffed and made to step around him, yet he followed him, blocking his path. "I assume you heard of the beanstalk growing into the sky?"

The man raised an eyebrow suspiciously, clearly wondering what significance any of this had to their recent occurrence. "What about it?"

"It was true. And something came down with it, and now we've lost our kingdom to it. That's the only reason we are here. We need Jural's help."

"And how do I know what you are saying is true?" the man questioned sceptically.

"You don't," Elmont shook his head. "But trust me, that is all I am asking of you. Please tell your king that we need his help and that I will come to him and address him on why we need his services."

The man continued to stare coolly at him, yet he soon nodded curtly, stepping around him and continuing further into the forest. Looking over his shoulder he spoke. "You'd best begin your journey now then." Soon after their retreating backs vanished from sight.

"Well we got ourselves quite a plunder there," William chuckled as he stepped over to join the two.

"It appears you did," Brahmwell answered for the knight as Elmont shared a brief and knowing look with him before turning back and striding towards the camp, ready to make preparations for his rapid and arduous ride to Jural.

From behind he heard his king question their motive. His heart sank but his hearing focused directly on William's gruff voice as he responded.

"We only Rob from those who are far more fortunate than us to survive. We were wronged once just as they. That's all you need to know."

* * *

**And so this is how the villagers live and how Elmont realises that he and his company will have to live from now on. Its rather daunting for him, but its a necessity to their survival. He will adjust to that over time. We'll also find out at some point how our woodsmen were wronged. Next it will be his ride to Jural where he will try and convince the king there of their situation and for his help. Debating on whether Isabelle will hassle him into letting her accompany him. She's hassling me to get her to do something rather than be sitting there vacant. Brahmwell and Crawe will be more involved at some point as well. Once again, I hope that you enjoyed and I look forward to hearing from you on this and the next update. Cheers! :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**Well, after dropping one subject that became too much for all of my others, in other words I prioritised exams and revision for my main three subjects over coursework for a two year course that I was supposed to finish in one. So now its history, philosophy and english literature, which I have coursework for as well. Anyway, enough about my education, here's the next update. Enjoy.**

**Chapter 14. A sticky situation.**

* * *

"They do what!?" she cried, shrill voice piercing the spacious room about them, tone laced with outrage. They had only arrived earlier this evening, having rode on two horses that their hosts had graciously offered them. And then, after all of their hospitality, she was only just learning that they were thieves _now_! She could only hope that Elmont had a damn good explanation for their actions and why she was left unaware.

"Please, there be more pressing matters at hand here, like trying to convince his Majesty Arden that we were actually under attack by giants and that Cloister is not involved with any theft from the kingdom of Jural."

And of course he was right. Negotiations with Arden had ended poorly, yet, despite his malevolence and perpetual anger, he had allowed them to stay, deciding to be merciful enough and allow them to explain themselves further. Thankfully it was because of her intervention that Arden was at least merciful towards them.

Yet none of that stopped the agitation from bubbling inside of her, deep down from within the pit of her stomach. Through the hazy light illuminating the walls from the torches, its golden glow bathing the floor, walls, furniture and their faces partially, she caught the glimmer of remorse in his storm orbs, and a wave of nostalgia washed over her. Suddenly she wished that she had remained oblivious. Then they wouldn't be caught in the middle of this conflict and they would be here peacefully rather than on edge.

"Don't leave me in the dark, Elmont!" she cried, the agitation now frothing into a boiling rage. Her fingers clenched involuntarily as she tried to control her quivering fists, feeling like she wanted to slap him for his silence, yet she knew that it wasn't fair on him. He was as mortified as she.

And she understood; truly she did. They stole simply to survive.

"But why do they do it?" she pleaded, eyes searching his earnestly. They stared at her with no recognition and her stomach lurched with disappointment. He didn't know.

His chest rose and fell slowly as he breathed in a deep sigh, breath fluttering across the loose strands of her hair draping over her neck. "I overheard William tell his Highness that they only steal from the wealthy. They were wronged once."

Her mind whirled; Wronged; by whom?

He saw her confusion and desire to find out. "We will find out eventually. I hate what they're doing…. What we will have to do at some point, but I can see why they do it. They do it to survive, just like we would and have to now. They don't victimise anyone, especially the poor. They only take what they need, and from those who are wealthy."

Nodding, she closed her eyes briefly. She hadn't been there, but she wasn't sure that she would condone such actions had she been present. All of her life she had been taught that stealing was wrong and had abstained from it. Now she was gradually being forced to engage in that forbidden action.

But survival was survival. As much as she disliked it she knew that she would just have to deal with it and continue to _live. _That was all they needed to do in order to take back Cloister.

Warmth spread through her rosy cheeks as rough and calloused palms cupped either side of her face, lifting her gaze, once she opened her eyes, to his warm and tender orbs.

"I never thanked you for helping me just now," he murmured softly, a small smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

Elmont had difficulty in getting his point across to the enraged king, who refused to let him get a word in as his savage anger blinded him.

Neither one of them dared to venture on what could have happened if she didn't step in. The only reason she was here in the first place was because she convinced Elmont to let her come with him. They both concluded that it would be fundamentally worse than their current position.

Arden didn't trust them completely, not anymore. They were offered new and smiple clothing - black leggings and loose white linen shirts, to get out of their constant attire of armour that they carried for days - and chambers to reside in, but he wanted them gone within a few days. Guards eyed and followed them suspiciously like vultures, never giving them a single moment's peace. Paranoia had set in. Their time was limited.

If they failed in achieving Arden's trust and therefore aid, they had little, next to no, fighting chance of taking back their homeland.

Blushing, her eye lids fluttering wildly in slight embarrassment and cracking under the weight of his tender stare, she breathed a light chuckle, suddenly feeling like she was incapable of speaking. The air began to thin around her and she sucked in a deep lungful of air, placing her hands over his, marvelling at how such rough hands could be so gentle.

"Well I couldn't just stand by and do nothing now could I?"

He nodded once, smile growing wider and soft eyes sparkling bright. "I suppose so."

The dim light of the torches only served to make his eyes dazzle all the more, like two burning stars, drawing her in until her forehead touched his and she closed her eyes, the same soft smile touching her lips as his eyes slid shut as well.

She simply stood there, breathing in his wonderful presence and already feeling the slight anger she felt at him for withholding information from her evaporate as she lifted her lips towards his briefly, caressing his mouth with hers.

Sighing in contentment she breathed against his parted lips, warm and sweet breath mingling with his. "Let me reason with him alone."

Upon sliding her eyes open she met his gaze, now shimmering slightly with concern.

She interrupted him before he could speak, already knowing what he would say.

"He can't use his absolute power over me. Not here," she declared bravely. "He cannot so much as lay a hand on me without igniting a war. Just let me reason with him tomorrow morning in court and he will soon understand. He has to."

She suppressed a shiver as his warm hands slipped from her face and grasp, sliding down her sides to rest just above her hips at the very edge of her waist, his smooth touch, for someone so durable, igniting her entire body. Everyday she felt her innocence steadily slip away from her, through her fingers like grains of sand, for every kiss and touch she found herself falling deeper in love.

Whatever he had done in his life; hurt and kill others, all for the safety of their home, it did nothing to chip away at her steady and undying love for him.

She dipped her head slightly as he lifted his, warm and soft lips hovering at her temple, brushing against her skin ever so slightly as he breathed silently, pondering her offer. Her arms remained locked at her sides, body rigid from his spell and out of fear that he wouldn't accept her idea.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked quietly, his head brushing against hers as he drew himself closer, protectively. They both knew that Arden was a lit fuse right now, his rage both blinding and confusing him. One wrong move from either of them could mean the end of an alliance and possibly war; one that they weren't prepared for, being too short of armoury and men.

Nodding affirmatively, her arms finally loosening and raising to wrap around him, balled fists resting just underneath his shoulders as her head lay to rest on his sturdy shoulder she assured him in the strongest tone of voice that she could muster that she was certain.

"I will do this," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It has to work."

There was, however, one obstacle.

They needed proof if King Arden was, by any chance, to believe them.

And proof came from returning to Cloister – the place that was, right now, too dangerous for them to return to.

* * *

**Yeah... they need quite a bit of proof if they are going to have any chance of gaining Arden's trust again. Cloister really isn't exactly a safe place for them to just walk into right now. I wouldn't have liked to have been around that hacked off king, especially not in those days! Thankfully for El and Isa, they are merely representatives and she stepped in. Probably wounded Elmont's pride a tiny bit, but he doesn't mind, since he's so sweet. :)There'll be more of Isabelle doing things all for the sake of reclaiming Cloister from Roderick. She won't just negotiate, oh no. There's more in store for her. So soon enough we'll be seeing just what kind of proof, and how it will be obtained, coming our way soon. Thanks, everyone. Hope to see more of you soon. :)**


	15. Chapter 15

**I just had to get this down before Sunday. I am on a school trip to Poland - Auschwitz and Krakow. I won't be back until Wednesday next week, so I thought I'd leave you with this without breaching my two week deadline. Amazingly I'm not doing too bad with this deadline. It gives me enough time to study and get my work done.**

**Bookmaniac, to answer your question concerning Isabelle and Elmont's age in chapter 2, it is because the first five chapters are of them growing up and growing closer. The whole point of visiting the lake was so that he could make her happy and allow her to keep happy memories. Neither anticipated just how close they would eventually become. Basically Elmont is 19 and Isabelle 10 in chapter 2 because it is essentially a prequel to the stories central plot. He's only 8 and a half years older than her, so whilst he's 19, she's just turned 10 at least 6 months prior to chapter 2. Hope that clears things up. :)**

**Here's chapter 15, everyone. :)**

**Chapter 15. An Unsettling Compromise.**

* * *

He woke up alone. Alone in his own given chambers, pristine threaded covers lightly resting upon him, exposing his slowly rising and falling chest. His eyes remained hooded, scratchy from having just broken the surface of consciousness.

Yawning and lifting a hand to his hair, dragging his fingers through the thick spikes, he finally opened his pale storm eyes, gazing up at the grey stone ceiling. The first thought was the exact one that had been plaguing his mind the previous night, after he had retired – Isabelle speaking to King Arden… alone.

He was surprised that he had achieved any sleep at all, an array of possible outcomes to the upcoming matter playing in his mind's eye. Not a single one of them settled his anxiety, something that he had felt ever since he had had to climb that blasted bean stalk.

Sometimes he found himself wishing that it had never grown into the sky in the first place, yet every time he did he reminded himself that, even though everything would still be normal, Isabelle would still be manacled to the excuse for a human being that was Roderick. Surely that would have been enough for her to flee, leaving them all behind. He couldn't imagine how life in Cloister would have been had it come to that.

Then again… maybe she would have asked him to come with her had he not convinced her to stay. Sighing, he knew that he could never do that, and surprisingly, he didn't regret his decision to ask her to stay.

He had a duty, and although it was to her, it was also to the King; a higher authority.

Three soft rasps banged against the black oak door to his chambers, and he sprung up immediately, sitting in his bed, covers now slipping down to reveal his flat stomach as a familiar and soft voice, one that he could never tire of hearing, filtered into the room.

"Hold on!" he called, scrambling around for a moment before leaning over the side and finding his discarded trousers. Grabbing them he quickly dressed himself, save the white linen shirt, and dived for his boots, pulling them up before hurrying to the door.

The door groaned with age as he pulled it back, eyes registering Isabelle's beautiful face. Despite the fogginess of sleep still crawling through his mind, seeing her was enough to make his heart skip a beat, his senses springing to alert. A short breath escaped her lips, yet words failed her as he caught her bright cerulean eyes trail down to his exposed chest, and the same burning desire he had already witnessed once ignite again.

Neck flushing scarlet and his stomach flipping in embarrassment he pulled the door back slightly further, allowing her entry. Catching sight of a flash of red, he poked his head out from the door and looked both left and right, spying a guard on either side of him. They both stared forwards, neither of them were flinching, even though he was sure that they sensed his powerful presence.

Quickly but softly closing the door, he spun around on his heel and dashed past Isabelle to the side of the bed he had slept on, bending down to retrieve his shirt and fidgeting with the insufferable material as he fought to find the bottom of the shirt. Each time the material slipped through his fingers, making locating the bottom of the shirt all the more difficult, his embarrassment grew, and he felt severely flustered.

Finally pulling the shirt over his head and down his slightly chilled flesh he turned to Isabelle, whose own gaze was averted to the ground, wavy brunette locks slightly hanging like a half open curtain across her face, revealing the slope of her neck and shoulder to him, making his mouth dry. Despite this obscurity he could still just see a faded pink blush creeping upon her porcelain cheek.

Clearing his throat as an excuse for something stuck rather than warring emotions, he stepped towards her. Her eyes immediately swept up from the floor to meet his vision, tresses flowing across her face and over her shoulder to cascade down her slender back. Each step he took and the intensity of her sparkling gaze made his heart constrict all the more tight, as if a cage were barricading it and declining, growing smaller with each breath. His steps pounded in his ears, despite how softly he made his way over the cold stone ground until he finally, to his relief, came to a halt right in front of her, his chest very close to hers and their heads nearly touching.

His stomach flipped and he pursed his lips, feeling unsure of himself. Uncertainty – something that wasn't very uncommon with him. Even now he still wondered if he was entirely worthy of the title Captain; if he could continue his job efficiently; protect those he cherished, particularly the young and stunning woman before him.

However none of that haunted him. He was instead uncertain about where his thoughts might lead him; what they might make him do before he even realised it and was too enamoured to stop it.

Greeting each other with a gentle hug and a soft 'good morning' he tightened his hold around her ever so slightly as he once again asked her if she was certain that she wanted to do this.

"Yes, Elmont," she answered, a miniscule hint of exasperation lacing her tone, yet she offered him a small smile, her bedazzling orbs sparkling with reassurance. He was thankful that it quenched at least some of his fear. He was ready to step in if anything got out of hand.

_No one _would touch her.

The thought alone made him heave a deep breath in through his nose, and he felt as if a whole suit of chain mail armour and sterling silver plates were being cast on him, shielding him and his heart, as if he were about to enter a battle.

And somehow, this gave him more confidence than he had ever hoped for.

* * *

And so it was now that they were seated in the throne room, slowly nourishing themselves with the fresh, steaming food and drink laid out before them.

Court was in session. Three large oak tables, at least nearly the entire length of the room, stretched out before them, common oak stools listing along the sides in a jagged line, as people shifted them around.

Above their heads was a blood red sea of tapestries, each embroidered with golden lace. Two small golden ropes hung down from the two bottom corners of each one. Threaded exactly in the centre was a black crow, a crimson rose lying just before its razor claws. Elmont couldn't help but perceive the image as ominous and foreboding, no matter how many times he glanced at it. Its message unsettled him.

The crow symbolised death, naturally death upon Jural's enemies. The rose, although in many cases represented love, which was also how he envisioned it, symbolised passion, as he remembered being informed about the first time he had ever visited this kingdom, along with a younger, less strained Brahmwell and a significantly calmer and more patient Arden.

Both had decided to wait patiently as people gradually filed out from the throne room, a maelstrom of bellowing, cheery voices and the clutter of now used dishes and goblets spilling over the tables dissolving.

At the far end of the now near empty throne room sat Arden, his beady unfathomable black eyes scouring the spacious room and its remaining inhabitants. Elmont looked up and surveyed him as his head slowly turned, face passing each of the pillars that supported the sturdy wooden ceiling above their heads.

Movement shifted beside him, a low scratching rumbling throughout the room. Elmont squeezed his eyes shut briefly, willing himself to ignore the urge to pull Isabelle back down to her seat. However, he knew that she was here to help him. He would not have gotten anywhere near this far had she not been beside him, and he was extremely grateful to have her by his side, her strength flowing through him just as his flowed through her.

They were each other's anchor, their haven; a place to call home and where they could simply just bathe in the other's magnificent presence. He was the soothing balm that would douse her recklessness and bring forth her rationality, and she was the fire that ignited his deeply buried yearning for adventure, making him crave it - bringing out the youthful side of him that he had kept hidden away from public sight when he had lost his family.

Unconsciously his right hand rose, fingers brushing against hers for a second before she slipped out of his range. A freezing chill encased his heart in frost, his muscles tensing as her footsteps, although still echoing loudly in his ears, gradually brought her further and further away from him.

He felt helpless. It was as if they were on separate sides of a river. He could still see her and communicate with her, yet was unable to physically reach her. And that was how he felt right now as she drew closer to the king, who by now had his dark orbs locked upon her. If anything were to happen he would not reach her in time.

He would either be captured himself or be too late to stop whatever was happening to her.

But he would try regardless.

Rationality told him otherwise – that Arden was no fool and that he would not dare lay a hand on Isabelle without igniting a war. But he remembered how so unprepared they were for anything of that magnitude. Trust was already broken between his king and Arden. He instantly caught that distrust glimmering in Arden's eyes, the anger plastered so clearly across his small, round face when they first strode into the throne room.

It was imperative that they regained his trust so that they could rekindle their alliance and gather their other allies to their cause. Cloister was in the middle of its most desperate hour.

The very fate of their home and their people alone was in Isabelle's hands. In this moment, everything was down to what she would say or do next.

He held his breath as her greeting to Arden slipped past her soft lips.

_'Focus, Elmont,' _he instructed firmly, as if he were instructing his men in training. _'Leave her be.'_

Perhaps the most difficult thing he now found himself having to do. He had stuck by her always to protect her, and it had burned when they were just friends. But now it was an inferno within his heart, scorching its way into his gullet, gut instinct blinding him from all other things and dragging him towards her. Before he even realised it the muscles within his arms tensed as he pressed his palms flat onto the table and pushed himself to his feet, ears prickling as Arden's gruff voice responded to her in kind.

His tone was cold, no different from yesterday.

Elmont forced himself to steady his erratic heartbeat and his steps until he stood a little closer to her. It wasn't as close as he would like for comfort, but it was closer than when he was seated, and that would do.

At least he was ready to spring forward in case something happened. He was fairly certain that it would.

"Your Majesty, I humbly ask that you allow us the chance to explain ourselves again. We would be most grateful to you if so."

An exasperated snort spilled forth from Arden's nose, nostrils flaring and thin raven eyebrows arching low as he glared at Isabelle who stood before him, looking up whilst he sat upon the stage that had been set for him and his company on either side of him.

"I have nothing to hear from you," he growled dangerously, lips curling back in a snarl, revealing glistening white teeth, as he leaned forwards in his seat menacingly.

"Please, your Majesty," Isabelle implored beseechingly, her hands clasping together in front of her. Elmont's throat constricted, leaving him unable to breathe for a moment. "You don't understand."

"I understand perfectly!" Arden snarled, banging a clenched fist hard against the arm of his chair. Everyone except Isabelle and Elmont flinched, yet the knight's unease never settled for a single moment. "Two of my subjects were robbed and _your kingdom_ was involved! Why would I trust a single soul in your kingdom anymore!?"

Anger simmered beneath the surface of his calm, and Elmont clasped his hands behind his straight back, squeezing tight until the skin turned red from lack of blood circulation, however his face remained stoic, a façade of calm towards anyone else.

He caught Isabelle's eye briefly and he knew that she saw his anger. He forced himself to breathe and vaporise the negative emotion, understanding that it would do no good to act on it.

Beneath her stoic facade he saw her confusion. He felt it too, just beneath his anger. Why didn't he trust them? What had happened beside the theft committed by the dwellers in the forest?

"I am asking you to trust me to obtain proof so that we may show our innocence."

A tiny smile tugged at Elmont's lips. Isabelle was quite the negotiator. They would get the proof they needed together.

After a long and agonising silence, in which the only sounds audible were their breathing and the crackling of the flames burning upon the torches, did Arden answer…

"Very well; _You _shall go. _He,' _Arden paused and gestured to the Captain of Cloister's guardians,_ "_shall stay."

"What!?" Elmont marched over to Isabelle's side, frowning up at Arden in outrage. The cord of patience within him snapped and he felt the flood of anger that he had carefully filled behind the dam of calm crumble. Red seeped into his vision and his lips curled back into a feral snarl as images of him grabbing Arden by the collar of his grey robes flashed across his mind.

He knew better than to think such things, but Arden's words had shaken him to the core. All he wanted right now was to beat out his anger. He needed air.

"My son shall accompany you so that he will know if you try anything treacherous."

At his calling, a finely built, and well-muscled, tall man stood from his seat to Arden's left. Sandy blonde hair was slicked back neatly, a thin parting line emerging at the right side of his head. Sapphire eyes that shone like diamonds blazed with determination upon a finely chiselled and handsome face. Thin pink lips slowly curled into a warm smile, much more friendly than that of his father.

He was garbed in black knee high boots, black leggings and a black jerkin, the raven and rose emblem embroidered just beneath his right shoulder. An elegant blood red cape, bearing the same symbol fell over and covered his right arm.

Absently Elmont felt Isabelle's warm and soft fingers touch his and he tangled his with hers, squeezing. She squeezed back reassuringly, ensuring him that she would be fine and that this was their only option. He accepted their fate with another small squeeze, thumb running smoothly along the back of her hand, praying that she understood it as a sign of his affection for her.

Both he and Isabelle nodded mutely, though dread remained settled in the pit of his stomach. He would be on guard whilst he was here alone and would think of her day and night whilst she was out there without him.

"Very well," Isabelle acquiesced, bowing respectfully before they both spun on their heel and removed themselves from Arden, his son and his council's presence, the flames from the torches and the sunlight through the windows dancing across both of their faces.

One held the expression of determination; the other was painfully stoic, pale storm eyes ice cold and concealing his anger and apprehension.

Their hands remained locked together.

* * *

**Not all is revealed yet. Why exactly does Arden distrust Elmont, Isabelle and insult them so harshly? What impression are you getting from Arden's son? More shall be revealed in the next update. Hang on for me whilst I'm in Poland trying not to come back as an emotional wreck and frozen in ice like Captain America. Hope to see you soon, and, of course, I hope that you enjoyed this update! :D**


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